Find Your Way Back
by starrynight265
Summary: What's a pirate to do...on land? Jack's lost something valuable to mysterious Africa. Now he and the gang face the biggest challenge: surviving. JA & mild WE. on hold i'm stuck!
1. Default Chapter

AN: Warning: Follows the story of "Don't Let Go" and "Salt Spray." If you don't read them, you might not understand. Always happy to try and help if you want the cliff notes version though. Merci bien to all who reviewed in the past, it was exceedingly helpful/encouraging.  
  
Now, may I present for your reading entertainment: "Find Your Way Back"  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Chapter 1: Prologue  
  
-  
  
-  
  
In the northern part of what the Europeans called Namibia, a young woman sat crouched on a small boulder. Her skin was given a reddish hue by the combined early morning light and the red powder and butter mixture that the people had dusted across her toned body. Her skin was lighter than most in this continent, but the people that she was surrounded by did not care because of her past. Most could not even understand the stories she had told in her original language of the white man, and the missionary she had befriended was now teaching her the heavy, native tongue of the tribe.  
  
The boulder on which she sat was situated near the top of a dusty hill, and around her there were many cattle grazing peacefully at the harsh grass. Behind her, tall dark mountains rose in the distance like clouds of an impending storm. The land surrounding her was beautiful and mysteriously inviting, but something else had captured her attention.  
  
Deep amber eyes surveyed the distant horizon, and from the height she was positioned, she could see quite far. Her gaze was fixated on the ocean, the sun dancing off the tips of the waves in a peaceful game. There were small white birds floating peacefully over the wave crests near shore, and she smiled as she saw a whale break the surface some ways out, his tail beckoning to her.  
  
It was traditional here that woman went bare-chested like the men, but it was a custom that she could not grow comfortable to following. Still, her clothing revealed more of her red-hued skin than she had ever commonly shown before in the presence of others.  
  
She wore a woven piece of fabric as a simple shirt that was wound around her chest and a short skirt composed of softened goatskin with a slim fur trim. On her feet she wore only simple leather sandals and the beads around her ankles clinked as she moved. Her hair was coiled in braids away from her face as was the tradition, and she was wearing an intricately woven leather headpiece indicating her stature.  
  
Here, they called her "malika," a princess, and the people's blind faith in her was somewhat unnerving and uncomfortable to her, given what she had previously known. She was not accustomed to it, and yet she was devoted to them and determined to do all that she could for her people. Around her neck lay a large smooth shell necklace, and her slim fingers grasped for it in reassurance.  
  
The woman watched the sea and its elements with a sort of fascination and longing. The bahari, the sea as the Himbas had named it, called to her. Her people treated her well, and she was needed. There was evil here, evil that could not be cured so quickly, and without a known cause or help, it was difficult to eradicate.  
  
The sea called to her, and yet she could not obey it. From a similar direction, something more powerful than the sea called to her as well. An emotion tugged at her heart, and reaching into a small leather pouch that she had tied securely around her waist, the young Himba woman drew out a well-loved object.  
  
She held it up to the rising sun like a religion and watched as the sun kissed it tenderly. She dangled the chain in front of her eyes and watched the gold coin spin in front of her for several precious moments. Finally, she caught it in her other hand and caressed it in her fingers it like a silent prayer.  
  
The dark-skinned woman pressed the coin to her lips, and with one last yearning glance towards the ocean, she turned back to her village and her people.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Disclaimer: Applied to the whole story (I hope I can do that): I don't own "Pirates of the Caribbean" nor its ideas or characters; they belong to Disney and everyone else who produced such a wonderful movie. Also, I (obviously) don't own the Himba tribe either, although I am using all of the above for the purpose of this story.  
  
AN: I promise, all questions will be answered. Okay class, repeat after me: the gold coin that the girl has is *not* I repeat, *not* one of the cursed treasure pieces.  
  
It's a prologue, its short, you no hurt, savvy?  
  
And where. . . you might be asking, is fair Captain Jack Sparrow in all this? Well . . .  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
- 


	2. A Sailor uh, Pirate like me

-  
  
Chapter 2: A Sailor . . .uh, Pirate Like Me  
  
-  
  
-  
  
June 6  
  
"Where it's wave over wave, sea over bow  
  
I'm as happy a man as the sea will allow  
  
There's no other life for a sailor like me  
  
But to sail the salt sea, boys, sail the sea  
  
There's no other life but to sail the salt sea"  
  
A tall, lean pirate stood swaying at the helm of his finely polished ship, quietly finishing his last verse of the song. He carefully flexed his grimy cramped fingers from where they were clamped onto the wheel. Sometime during his shift it had begun to rain, and now his clothes and long dark hair were damp. The hat that he usually wore was absent from its usual place, laying somewhere in his desk where he had locked it over two months ago. Two months.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow leaned his weight against the helm, squinting into the distance. Was that. . .lights in the distance there? He squeezed his black smudged eyes closed again before looking again. Yep, those were city lights, clear as day. The Black Pearl had arrived in Port Royal. Jack felt a pang as the ship quietly glided into the bay. Frowning, he reached over to bang haphazardly on the large brass bell to summon the crew on deck.  
  
Yawning, the pirate crew assembled themselves on deck. One particularly heavyset man, rubbing his filthy grizzled face, made his way over to Jack with a ferocious frown on his face. "What be the meanin' o'this, Capt'n?" he mumbled through a sleepy fog.  
  
"Gents!" Jack yelled loudly, ignoring his newly promoted first mate. "I'm a'going ashore. I want ye all to take the Pearl to the cove a bout a mile over and hide 'er in the lagoon, savvy?"  
  
The sailors nodded obediently, most still looking somewhat confused to be awakened so rudely at the early hours before daybreak.  
  
Jack sighed deliberately. "After that, set up a watch," he paused and again the usually robust crew nodded obediently. Finally he spoke the words he knew that crew wanted to hear, "Then the rest o'ye dogs can have a day an' night off in western Port Royal. But no trouble, ye hear?" Jack hollered above the excited din that broke out.  
  
"Sir, yes sir!" the crew yelled enthusiastically, all scrambling to ready the ship.  
  
Gibbs took the wheel from Jack as the captain swayed towards his cabin. "Capt'n?" Gibbs called out hesitantly in his gruff, sea-hardened voice, "What business ye have in Port Royal?"  
  
Jack swung around, the coins in his hair jangling as he did so, and came within inches of first mate. "Unfinished business," he said sharply before turning away and swaggering back to his cabin, slamming the door with an unpleasant thud.  
  
Gibbs was left to stare after his captain. Since the lass left, he hadn't been himself at all: Barkin' orders to the crew, raiding harshly, and secluding himself in his cabin most of the time or climbing nimbly to the crow's nest to survey the horizon for hours on end. Gibbs was starting to get worried; why, when they were docked in Tortuga several weeks ago, Jack Sparrow who usually was the king of Tortuga and acted as one, had drunken himself into a stupor before returning to the Pearl. No whores, no duels, no fistfights or playing cards. Nothing.  
  
Gibbs shook his head. He hoped that whatever plagued his friend's mind could be found in Port Royal. Gibbs turned the wheel several degrees and heaved a heavy sigh, beginning to doubt it already.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
As the sun rose on Port Royal, Jack Sparrow crept along through the shadows, knowing that here his neck was still wanted by many for less than pleasurable things. He made his way to a familiar store and pushed the door open. Jack drew his sword, knowing that last time he was in this shop he had been hit over the head by the drunken Mr. Brown. Jack wasn't planning on that happening again.  
  
Suddenly, a loud ruckus began to take place. Something over his head near the ceiling began to spin noisily and someone shouted something unintelligible. Jack moved towards the center of the room, only to have something large and hairy knock into him. He fell back onto the floor with a muffled "Oomph," and the wind was knocked out of him. The assailant ran at him again, and Jack only barely managed to roll out of the way of its thundering hooves.  
  
Wait. . .hooves?  
  
Shaking his head to clear it, Jack climbed to his feet. The room was dim with only the embers of the fire glowing and the squealing and banging of metal on metal had not stopped. Through the din, he hunched over, searching the floor for his sword.  
  
With the thumping of footsteps, someone came running into the room, and Jack heard the undecipherable mutterings of an intoxicated person. Unable to spot his sword, he reached for the first thing that caught his eye.  
  
With loud twang, he pulled a smoldering, half-completed sword from the embers. Barreling towards him, the donkey suddenly stopped in its tracks, the screech of protesting machinery making Jack want to drop to his knees and clap his hands over his ears. A short, grizzled man that Jack knew must be Mr. Brown rushed at him holding a broken bottle, and Jack casually caught him with the sword tip at the back of the head.  
  
The donkey began to hurriedly reverse its direction, backing up frantically in a clatter of hooves against straw and wood. The grinding of gears in the wrong direction was ear-splitting.  
  
"Stop!" A newcomer leaped out in front of donkey, putting a comforting hand its nose to soothe him. The donkey stopped moving and the at last the clatter eased. "What are you trying to do, collapse the bloody place?" The newcomer demanded heatedly in a hoarse voice, thrusting a sword in Jack's surprised face and staring at him angrily.  
  
"Ah," Jack started to say, but he suddenly knocked the figure's sword aside with his own glowing one and shoved them to the ground. There was a sudden sounding of footsteps from a back room and a young man rushed into the room. In the dim light, Jack recognized him quickly. "Will!"  
  
Jack suddenly looked confused, stopping to stare at the person in front of him, climbing shakily to their feet. The hair was coming loose from a mussed braid and the hat previously worn had been knocked to the ground. In britches and a loose shift, recognition clicked into place, "Elizabeth?"  
  
Elizabeth swatted away the hand he chivalrously offered to steady her and rose to her full and not quite impressive height. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and before Jack could defend himself, her fist had collided with his gut.  
  
Jack doubled over, gasping for breath. Will bounded down to Elizabeth to check her over. Satisfied that she was unharmed, he turned to the pirate, "Jack, what are you doing here?"  
  
"Just. . . comin' for a visit, mate," Jack drawled, lowering himself to sit down on the steps that led to the outside world.  
  
Elizabeth glared at him with sudden renewed vengeance as she recognized a certain air about him that she had first seen on the small desert island, "Jack Sparrow, you are drunk!" she shrieked, starting towards him again.  
  
Jack threw up his hands to ward her off, putting on his most innocent expression. "Pirate," he reminded her. Suddenly something clicked in his foggy brain and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully at Elizabeth, waggling his finger at her accusingly, "An' what are ye doin' here at this time o'mornin', missy?"  
  
Elizabeth blushed, and Will looked flustered. Jack rolled his eyes. Hormones.  
  
"Will was, uh, teaching me to fight. . ." Elizabeth finally admitted.  
  
Jack observed them both. It might be true. But then again, it might not be the whole truth. Even so, he let the matter drop. "Aye," Jack said, his trademark smirk firmly set in place, "It's a fine goal, to be sure."  
  
"Jack," Elizabeth questioned again, sneaking a puzzled exchanged glance with Will. "What are you doing here? You're not in trouble with James again, are you?" she asked accusingly.  
  
Jack made a disappointed noise, "So little faith in me. No, I 'aven't seen the bloke since me arrival" He lapsed into silence, idly stroking his beard and finally the captain steeled himself to bite the bullet, forcing himself to sound as casual as possible, "I don't suppose ye've received any word from that man who Ana went sailin' off with, have ye?"  
  
Elizabeth allowed herself a little knowing smile. Men, they were so bloody predictable. "No, Jack, the ship hasn't returned. I'm sorry," she told him softly.  
  
Jack waved his hands carelessly about him, "Ah, it's no matter. Just an ol' pirate's curiosity."  
  
"Jack," Elizabeth crossed to him; the irony of her ladylike manners while dressed in man's clothes not lost on the pirate. "No one would blame you for missing her," she blurted out.  
  
Jack leapt to his feet, clumsily sheathing his sword that he realized was lying near his feet. "Who said I missed 'er? I said nothin' of the sort! Pirates don't miss no one, 'specially not Capt'n Jack Sparrow!"  
  
Elizabeth took a wary step back as the man began to swing his arms and legs about in protest. Will stuck out his hand as an indication for her to not push the obviously upset pirate. Will narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, calling on the power of logic that had been so often used by Jack himself.  
  
"I'm surprised your even asking about her, Jack," Will said slyly, his voice taking on a cold tone, "After all, she did leave you without a backwards glance for people she'd never met before. And-" Will grasped for another reason, suddenly finding it triumphantly, "And after all, she did take your Spanish coin!"  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Aye, that she did. The wench took me good Spanish coin that belongs in this here hair," he motioned to his locks, still adorned with several beads and trinkets as it were. He ignored the fact that he had given it to her as a gift the very day she had left. The pirate began to pace, the wheels turning furiously in his head, "And I vowed I'd be back for it. I don't break me oaths, mate."  
  
Will and Elizabeth nodded obediently and fervently in agreement.  
  
Jack continued to rant, his back going rigid as he straightened himself into his full height. "No wench makes a fool outta Captain Jack Sparrow!"  
  
"Which is why you should tell her that and get your coin back!" Elizabeth put in enthusiastically, her eyes widening innocently in attempts to convince Jack she was really on his side. Will shot her a look, thinking that her outburst might have been a bit too much and Jack would realize what he was admitting.  
  
However, the pirate didn't take any heed of her enthusiasm, and he spun around, beads clinking in his hair as he did so. "Right!" he yelled, "Teach her not to cross Capt'n Jack," he drawled, the full effects of his intoxication painfully obvious to the other two occupants of the room.  
  
Jack sashayed deliberately over the steps where he had previously been sitting and walked up to the heavy wooden door. He turned to face Will and Elizabeth, not noticing as behind him the door swung quietly open. "I'm a'going to Africa!" he exclaimed.  
  
"About bloody time!"  
  
A new voice broke in to the conversation from the newly opened door. Jack spun around, confusion etched into the lines of his face. James Norrington stood in the doorway, and Jack recognized him as the voice that had interrupted him. Eve was clinging to James' arm, looking amused.  
  
"I'm apologize for my rudeness, but it's true," James said, sweeping Eve into the room and baring the door behind them.  
  
Jack stared from one to the other, his perplexed countenance set firmly in place. "Ye-Ye two. . ."  
  
"Are looking for a new sword for Ms. Connors," James said smoothly.  
  
"What?" Jack asked, "'How in the blazes am I supposed t'know who 'Ms. Conors' is, mate?"  
  
"Eve," James replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm buying a new sword for Eve."  
  
"Oh!" Jack said, merrily clapping his hands, "So it is ye found a girl!"  
  
"Jack," Elizabeth interrupted sharply. Jack cringed as he saw one of her hands clench in a first by her side.  
  
"But yer going to Africa!" Eve exclaimed, breaking the somewhat uncomfortable moment.  
  
Jack shook his head to clear it. "Aye. . ." he looked confused on how he had arrived at that conclusion, "That I am,"  
  
Elizabeth looked at her fiancée with a new spark in her eyes, "And we're going with you!"  
  
All eyes in the room swung to her. "What?" Jack asked finally, getting a sinking feeling about this.  
  
"No, you're not," Will broke in, "It's too dangerous."  
  
"Will!" Elizabeth exclaimed, and Jack knew instinctively that the boy was going to cave. "Will, this is my last chance to have an adventure and see the world! Once we are wed I can't do anything like that. . ." she trailed off, giving him a little smile, "There will be children to think of, and I'll have lost my chance."  
  
Will returned her smile with a sappy one of his own. The boy nodded and took her hand.  
  
Hook, line, and sinker, she had him. Jack rolled his eyes. "My apologizes for breaking the mood, but yer not comin'."  
  
"Jack, please," Elizabeth turned her pleading dark eyes on the pirate.  
  
Jack huffed. He looked over at Eve and the commodore observing the ordeal from a little ways away, "An' I suppose ye want to come, too?"  
  
Eve frowned slightly, and James looked slightly amused. "I'm afraid my duties as won't permit it," he told the pirate regretfully.  
  
"I haven't grown accustomed this new place yet, so I'll be stayin' here. Sorry, Capt'n," Eve piped up. "But I'll be wantin' to see ye again when ye come back," she said with a smile, leaving the unspoken words where they were. Everyone else in the room besides the pirate captain heard them clearly. 'When ye come back with Ana.'  
  
"No," Jack said finally, turning to the soon to be Turners once more. "I can't let ye. I can't be responsible if somethin' happens to ye."  
  
"Jack," Elizabeth tried her best pout.  
  
Jack held up his hand. "No," he said in the most stern, captain-like voice he could muster. "It's been wonderful to see ye all again, but I've got a . . .a . . . gold coin t'get back."  
  
Jack sashayed to the door, tipping his invisible hat to the occupants of the room. "Ta."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Twenty-four hours later, Captain Jack Sparrow found himself aboard the Black Pearl en route to the African continent as a man with a mission . . . and hell's worst headache.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
AN: *giggles* Making a little more sense now? And so, the real adventures (and surprises, don't forget them!) begin. My reviewers are (as always) amazing.  
  
For a disclaimer, see first chapter, yes? 


	3. Stowaways, Cake, and Guns

Disclaimer: See chapter one.  
  
AN: I think I had Jack mention the timeline in the last chapter, but if it was confusing, I apologize and will say that this happens two months after "Salt Spray" and Ana's departure. I'm going to say that it takes about a month (less with the Pearl!) to cross the Atlantic, but if anyone knows that this is wrong, I'd appreciate the help!  
  
So sorry to say this, but I'm going away for the next week to a place where there are no computers, (the horror!) so this will be my last update (unless I can type something quick tonight and tomorrow morning). So I'm apologizing in advanced for the delayed progression of the story, but I promise I'll try to write lots so I can type it all up and post when I get back!  
  
As always, like to hand it to my reviewers. Somehow you always manage to make my day.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Chapter 3: Stowaways, Cake, and Guns  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
July 3  
  
"How'd this 'appen?" Jack Sparrow asked himself in an angry slur as he stumbled through the brig. He clutched a bottle of rum in one hand and the other was flailing about dramatically. How had the bloody whelp and his rum burner talked him into this? Sure, it had started with talking good and easy about getting his coin back, which he had given to her in the first place. . . so, really he had no reason to search her out and get it back.  
  
The second bit about teaching Ana that no woman made a fool out of Jack Sparrow was another measure. He almost laughed aloud at that. He could just imagine Ana's dark eyes narrowing dangerously as her hand rose to sharply smack his cheek and telling him he could kiss some of the most unpleasant places.  
  
He rubbed the abused bone thoughtfully, a small smirk playing across his face. Aye, that woman was fire. It was quite possible that he could order the Pearl to turn around and sail right back to Tortuga and abandon all pursuits of finding the African woman. Hell, he didn't even know where to start. All he knew was it was in a place the Europeans explorers had named Namibia, her tribe was the Himba, and she was herself some type of royalty there. It wasn't much to go on.  
  
Really, it was a fool's errand. And Captain Jack Sparrow was not a fool. So what in blue blazes was he doing out in the middle of the ocean, three weeks out into a venture that could be completely superfluous?  
  
To be frank, Jack Sparrow didn't know. He drank deeply from his bottle and considered this. Still, he was a captain, and a captain never admitted his faults, which could mean one of two things, either of which admitting his shortcomings.  
  
One, that he had given the orders to sail east to the African continent, and to revoke that order would appear as if the captain had taken complete leave of his senses and he himself was inexperienced at his duties. This, of course, could lead to an immediate undelayed mutiny as it were.  
  
Or two, that he could continue the course and complete the errand as it were, but if he were to find Ana would have to admit that he missed her and that he was wrong to say the things he did.  
  
Jack blinked in surprise. Where had that thought come from? Ever since her departure, he had forced all thoughts of Anamaria from his mind as soon as he felt them begin to drift through his thoughts. It must be the rum speaking so poetically.  
  
Jack tripped gracefully over a large crate lying near the edge of one of the brig's cells. He lay sprawled out beside it, staring at the dark wood rafters pensively. Jack felt a twinge of unease as he forced his weak mind away from the subject of a certain woman.  
  
Since boarding the Pearl and telling Gibbs gruffly to set a course due east, Jack had decided there was something the crew was hiding from him. Immediately his gut reaction was to suspect mutiny, and the pirate captain was on constant alert, sleeping with several pistols in his bed. If Ana was here. . .  
  
No, Jack mentally berated himself, Ana wasn't here. If she was, maybe she could have stopped whatever was happening. Loyal as a dog, she was. Jack's eyes narrowed through the dim light, if only she wasn't angry.  
  
He heard a faint noise, like the rustling of fabric and hauled himself up the iron bars to his feet. So it was starting again was it, the mutiny and all. He drew his pistol and dropped his bottle of rum with a loud crash. He heard a muffled gasp to his right and swung around. He could see no none and nothing but the. . .  
  
Jack crept alongside the large crate and regarded it quizzically. It couldn't be. . .could it? Cautiously, he stuck out a leather-booted foot and tapped the edge of the wooden box.  
  
Clunk.  
  
The pirate's eyes narrowed triumphantly. It was hollow. He bent over and picked up the remainders of his rum bottle and flung the intact portion at the wall with a satisfying clatter.  
  
Again, he heard a small sound coming from his right. Jack smirked triumphantly and carefully made loud stomping noises leading towards the stairs leading up to the main deck, clicking his heels softly on the first stairs, as if to sound like someone had climbed them. Then Jack stepped back into the shadows and stood perfectly still.  
  
He didn't have to wait long. There was a loud rustling in the crate and in the dim light, he watched as a figure pushed open the top and climbed out.  
  
"Oh good heavens!" the figure exclaimed in a terrified voice, surveying the mess of broken glass and spilt liquor, placing hands on hips in a typical disapproving gesture.  
  
Jack's face began to twist, not knowing if he should be amused or infuriated. He watched motionlessly as a second, larger figure vaulted out of the crate and looked around. Only when the second figure move close to the first and pressed their faces together did the pirate take action.  
  
With a decisive click, he stepped out into the light and made a loud, "Ahem."  
  
The two people sprang apart and dove into the shadows. Smirking, Jack surveyed them, and rolled his eyes one hand raising to scratch his dark head. "Oh, blast me stars. I swear I coulda sword I 'eard a whelp and 'is rum burner around here somewhere. Must have been me imagination."  
  
Jack walked three steps towards the crate, his beaded hair jangling in the near silence, "But o'course," he continued, suddenly lashing out with his foot and rapping Will Turner across the knees, "I could also be right, savvy?"  
  
The boy rolled out into the light with a loud groan, clutching the place that would be bruised in the near future, muttering something that Jack took to be some colorful language form of agreement.  
  
Elizabeth Swann burst out of the shadows, clipping Jack on the side of the head with her palm. "Don't hurt him!" she commanded shrilly.  
  
Jack looked at her with wide, serious eyes. "Since when do I not punish stowaways on me ship, missy?" At her silence, he continued as if having a conversation with himself, "Ah yes, I seem to 'ave forgotten myself there, ye and Mister Turner are. . .yes, stowaways. And. . .what am I doin'? I think I be punishin' 'em. Hmph, who in blue blazes would'a thought it?"  
  
Elizabeth narrowed her dark eyes at him, shoving a shaking finger in his face, "Don't you patronize me either, Jack Sparrow!"  
  
"Captain, luv," Jack corrected, grabbing Elizabeth's arm and giving a kick in Will's direction to get him moving, roughly ushering the two up the stairs and into the dark grey day. He propelled them against the mainmast and thoughtfully drew his cutlass. "Do ye know what we do to stowaways, mate?" he questioned darkly. His gaze switched to the sky, "Does that look like rain to ye?"  
  
Will stared at him incredulously, while Elizabeth quickly followed Jack's eyes. "Yes," she answered pertly.  
  
"Good," Jack continued like a schoolteacher. "Cause I don't. Ye can be the one to 'plain it t'me." Suddenly he barked for his first mate, "Gibbs!"  
  
The heavy man came bustling out of the cabin, dusting his hands on what looked like an apron, "Aye, Capt'n?" He appeared not to have noticed the two stowaways.  
  
Jack stared at him, "What do ye think yer doin'?"  
  
"I be makin' me a chocolate cake, sir," Gibbs said hesitantly.  
  
"A cake," Jack repeated, his eyes fixed on the pudgy man's sheepish grey eyes.  
  
Suddenly Gibbs appeared to notice Will and Elizabeth and started. His eyes went round in shock and apprehension and his face took on the appearance of a child that had been caught taking the last piece of the cake that he so appreciated. "Mr. Turner! Ms. Elizabeth!" he squeaked, "W-what a . . . surprise?"  
  
Jack sighed and rolled his eyes, "How long, Gibbs?"  
  
"How long what, uh, Captain?" Gibbs asked innocently, licking a streak of batter from his knuckle.  
  
"How long have ye bloody known they were there!" Jack yelled impetuously, jumping up and down in exasperation.  
  
"Uh, who was where?"  
  
Jack growled angrily, realizing with a sudden click that this had been the reason that something was amiss with his crew, "There's . . .no mutiny, then?"  
  
"Mutiny?" Gibbs looked on blankly, "The crew loves ye, Jack. They wouldn't put ye through it again. Why would ye think mutiny?"  
  
Jack chose not to respond and moved to stand by the railing, waving his hand carelessly at the soon-to-be Turners, "Go . . .do somethin' with 'em, Gibbs. I'll deal with 'em later."  
  
"But Cap'n," Gibbs started, "Shouldn't I lock 'em in the brig like we do with stowaways here so they don't escape?"  
  
Jack whirled on him, his eyes glittering dangerously. "Gibbs, we're in the middle of a bloody ocean. There's no where for 'em to go!"  
  
"Aye. . ." Gibbs answered uncertainly. He turned to the Turners, "Ye can have some'o me cake when it's done, follow me."  
  
Jack hung his head in defeat. "We're blasted pirates, savvy? We bake damn chocolate cakes, love our daft captains, and take on bloody passengers. Aye," he continued to tell himself, "Pirates, we are."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Several hours later, Jack Sparrow stood at the helm. His jagged thought process had driven the captain near daft and hadn't been able to bring himself to speak to the Turners yet, locked in his cabin as they were.  
  
In the still purple darkness of breaking dawn, a motion caught his eye. Despite the gentle rocking of the Pearl, he was able to make out a steadily advancing charcoal smudge. Jack stuck out his booted foot and rapped the salt-crusted brass bell sharply, summoning all hands to deck.  
  
Sleepily, the crew clamored aboard, each clutching either a cutlass or a pistol. Even the Turners came rushing from their cabin, looking more awake than most, giving Jack a reason to doubt they had been sleeping.  
  
"Ship on the horizon," Jack informed them nonchalantly.  
  
Gibbs nodded to the crew and the pirates sprang away from the circle they had enclosed around the helm to trim the sails and approach the guns. Gibbs handed Jack his spyglass and he inspected the advancing ship carefully. Even at its far distance, he could see that it was of Dutch make, and fine shipbuilders they were.  
  
Makers of quick, nimble, and well-armed ships, Jack knew from past history that the Dutch privateers or merchant vessels were not to be taken lightly. In fact, the Pearl itself was a Dutch-made ship that only had been . . .improved for its uses in the Caribbean.  
  
He was faced with a sudden decision: to stand and let it approach, taking the chance of high damages, or to flee, which was surely a blow to the pride. Jack handed the spyglass to his Gibbs, glancing down at him after a few seconds, "What do ye think?" he asked uncertainly.  
  
Gibbs grunted, noting himself the make of the ship, "It's armed," the grubby man growled, confirming Jack's fears.  
  
"Maybe they want t'have tea," Jack quipped, snapping his spyglass closed.  
  
Gibbs sighed, "I don't think so, Jack."  
  
"Captain Jack," Jack reminded him halfheartedly. Coming to a decision, he turned to the crew. "Man the guns! Not one of ye fires except on me command, savvy? Every man his sharpest!"  
  
The Pearl stood her ground as the ship drew closer, the crew standing at attention. Will and Elizabeth hovered near the helm as if anxious to help but unsure how to do so.  
  
She was a finely made ship, this Dutch vessel, with polished light wood and a colorfully painted mast in what appeared to be traditional colors. She was, however, flying no colors, which worried the pirate captain.  
  
Within firing range, the ship seemed to slow and almost stop, drifting in the currents. Even at the distance, Jack could see a flurry of activity on deck from where he stood at the helm. His gaze was suddenly caught by atop the highest mast, a flag was suddenly unfurled. Every muscle in Jack's body went tense.  
  
Red.  
  
Captain Sparrow's heart sank and fear clenched in his jaw. Red: no mercy, no prisoners, merciless slaughter.  
  
"Trim the sails! Full speed!" Jack barked to his crew, who all stood frozen by the sight of the pirate flag. He began to hurried turn the wheel to his right away from the ship as hard as he could, and Will Turner rushed forward to (thankfully) help him.  
  
Jack's voice jarred them out of their petrified stances, and the crew leapt to their positions.  
  
A cannon shot rang out from the other ship, splashing harmlessly in the water nearby. Jack concentrated fully on steering the ship away from this other one, knowing that if these pirates were out for blood and slaughter and trained to do so, there was an icicle's chance in hell the Pearl would make it out unscathed and able to continue her voyage to shore.  
  
"Return fire, Capt'n?" Gibbs requested, twisting his hands anxiously in his vest.  
  
Jack shook his head with gritted teeth as canon shots splashed around them, and he felt several scream into the ship beneath him. "Hold on, love," he muttered, glancing around frantically to be reassured the crew was working to his satisfaction. Seeing that they all were entrenched in their duties despite the loud shots that filled the air, Jack narrowed his eyes and held the helm steady.  
  
Elizabeth Swann looked as if she was about to cry, Jack noticed as his eyes had swept across the ship. Probably brought back painful memories for the lass, he realized. He felt the ship gain momentum beneath him and be pulled along by the strong breezes.  
  
Glancing back, he saw that little by little the distance between the two ships, the latter still firing madly, was increasing slowly.  
  
Around them, the sun was beginning to rise, bathing the sea in her soft orange light. Jack noticed through the tension with satisfaction that the sky was not blood red, indicating a fine day for sailing, and he thanked his luck, small as it were.  
  
Elizabeth let out a little squeal, "We're almost getting away!"  
  
"That's good enough, love," Jack reminded her sharply, "Almost livin' still means yer dead."  
  
However, she was right and after a very tense ten minutes, the pursuing ship had reached the end of the range of its weapons, appearing to be weighed down by something, most likely artillery. The Pearl's crew began to twitter amongst themselves once more, and Jack allowed a relieved sigh.  
  
He leaned back and let the salt breeze shift through his hair. Mr. Cotton's bird was flying around madly, squawking something foreboding, but the crew had let out a whoop and didn't seem to care. The Turners were again embracing, he had noticed with aggravation, and now Jack Sparrow was left to his own devices.  
  
Using the helm, he hauled himself back to an upright position. His eyes caught something on the continually brightening horizon that had not been noticed by him only minutes before. Jack narrowed his obsidian eyes and whipped out his spyglass, surveying the spot. He handed the spyglass to Will Turner, who had magically appeared at his side after Jack had taken interest in the sight.  
  
"Go ahead, lad," Jack told him softly, "Ye know ye want to."  
  
Will Turner grinned at him and threw his arm around his fiancée's shoulders, kissing her cheek enthusiastically.  
  
"Land, ho!"  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
- 


	4. In the Village, the Peaceful Village

-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
AN: I'm back! *sigh* vacation is over, alas, but as a result, I have several new chapters done! Hurrah!  
  
uhoh.....mess-up by me. For the record, there are going to be dates at the top of the chapters so no one gets confused if I (like I did last chapter) forget to mention the time frame in context. For the record if anyone was confused, it happened four weeks after leaving Port Royal.  
  
Disclaimer: See chapter one, and yes, the title of the chapter I stole from that song, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," (don't ask me who sings it or the copyright, but anywho, it isn't mine)  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Chapter 4: In The Village, The Peaceful Village. . .  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
July 11  
  
-  
  
A dark skinned woman stretched languidly on the bed of animal fur and straw on which she slept and sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her eyes glanced around the small mud and thatch hut and she sighed. There were the remains of small fire at the center directly below a small opening for the smoke, a pot resting on it. There was an elaborate shrine of bird feathers and goatskin against one wall and seashells and dried flowers were strewn across the walls. They had tried their best to make her comfortable here, she thought with a wry smile, the seashells a gift from the friar whom she had befriended.  
  
It was late morning, she knew; the sunlight filtered languidly through the crisscrossed wood that made up the roof. She wasn't used to this, she realized, and she didn't like it.  
  
She was a bloody pirate, a scallywag. She wasn't mean to be royalty or anything of the sort. It couldn't be hard, she had thought at first, nothing more than leading a crew of men. How little had she known, when Salim had first told her of the demon spirit that plagued the village, she had thought it to be a stray wild animal or perhaps wildman of the forest.  
  
How wrong she had been.  
  
Anamaria Santagio, or simply the "malika" as she was addressed here, rose to her feet and pulled on the simple goatskin skirt and slipped the small cotton woven shirt over her head. She pushed back the tent flaps serving as a door and stepped out into the intense African sunlight, the heat of the dry season already beginning to saturate the air.  
  
She surveyed the small bustling village around her. There had been no attack during the night, the first of several nights that had allowed the people to sleep peacefully. As she crossed to the hut in which her aunt lived, she was halted by someone calling to her.  
  
A tall, middle-aged man with graying red hair, his face streaked with orange paint was waving his arms frantically in an attempt to get her attention. However, unlike the villagers, this man was white and European. They called him Jimoh, and he had accepted that as his name, no longer going by his British-given name. Ana didn't know it, nor had she any idea why he had come to Africa in the first place, and he didn't readily volunteer information. Still, he had a good heart and was very kind to her, a favorite of the people. He was a good teacher and in the nine years in which he had lived with the tribe had taught a portion of them English.  
  
"Malika," he hailed her, bowing shortly.  
  
"Anamaria," she corrected and rolled her eyes, pushing him back into the upright position, meriting her a surprised yelp from the man. He never failed to underestimate her strength, she thought wryly, and the two began to walk towards the pastures. "I see that the pepo mbya did not strike last night."  
  
"Yes, thanks to God," he answered her, crossing himself quickly. He was very religious, a friar after all and never ceased to be upset by the native "barbaric" culture.  
  
She allowed herself a small smile at this, remembering when she had first come to this place with Salim. She had been terrified, unable to understand their language and customs; Jimoh was her savoir, explaining to her the culture and acting as a translator between herself and her aunt. Ana's eyes focused on the horizon when she felt a sudden gust of wind, and she was briefly distracted, wondering what the ocean looked like this morning and its sailing conditions.  
  
In the tranquil setting, complete with cattle grazing lazily on the dry grass and scattered young dark skinned boys yelling excitedly as they jabbed at each other with sticks, dodging behind the large beasts. Jimoh absently kicked his foot against a large chunk of dry earth, marveling briefly at how it crumbled into a fine red powder; how amazing it was, how these people used every material from the earth to its fullest potential, including this red-dried clay as dye and color. He watched Ana's regal posture fade and her eyes take on a dissolute expression. Glancing sideways at her, he decided it best to be bold. She was a strong woman, he knew, though immensely secretive on her past. Still—  
  
"I will not ask you why you are so enraptured by the sea with each passing day," he stated finally in Himba. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, so he shifted and continued, "But I will ask how long you have loved him."  
  
Ana's eyes shot to him and burned holes into his features, "And ye shan't get an answer for it's none o'yer bloody business!" she spat.  
  
Jimoh's countenance remained passive, yet inside he was surprised. Malika had not spoken so coarsely before, now revealed in her angry passion, and she must have been careful in these past two months to hide it.  
  
The African woman finally sighed and idly adjusted her necklace, reaching for something in her belt pouch, visibly diminishing in stature. A nervous habit; Jimoh recognized it from past experience. "How did ye know?"  
  
The religious man merely shrugged passively, "I have learned to see what is hidden. Why do you run, child?"  
  
The fire returned to Ana's eyes, "What would ye have me do? I had no idea this," she gestured wildly to the landscape and encompassed village, "existed until a few months ago. I made a promise to my father and I will honor it." She fiddled with one of her rings, "Besides, I cannot leave. I am needed."  
  
"Yes," Jimoh remarked softly, "The people have great faith in you."  
  
"Why?" Ana burst out passionately, "Why do they trust me o'all people? I don't know how t'fix this?"  
  
"The answers will come," Jimoh reassured her, praying he did not speak falsely. "Goodness will triumph over evil. Look at me," the missionary chided gently, "When I cam to this place alone and without friends, I did not think of anything but the beating of my heart and the call to do what is right. You think too much, Malika. Live is simple, live it thus."  
  
Ana smiled wryly, "Ye make it sound easy." She was tired, tired to the bone more than any experience as a pirate had left her. She was exhausted at being awakened to screams and the presence of evil in the night, to the death and the illness. She was exhausted with frustration. More than ever, Jimoh's words had caused her heart to beat again, and more than ever she wanted not to feel it.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
". . . And that, mates, is why we never play stowaway on a pirate ship, savvy?"  
  
Will and Elizabeth plodded along the enthusiastic captain, eyes glazed over, bodies sticky with sweat and dirt as the group followed a small dark- skinned native boy as he darted through the scattered trees and dense brush.  
  
After stopping in several ports and exchanging words (some unfriendly) with the Dutch traders, Jack had finally discovered the nearest port to Ana's tribe. Pulling into the crude port and city, Jack had stepped foot onto the docks, hailing the first street urchin he saw. Showing off his pouch of lifted gold and several key words, the boy's filthy face lit up, showing his few rotten teeth, and he jabbered excitedly in a mixture of his thick native tounge and broken English, "Eeh, Himba. . .day half. . .trees. . ."  
  
Satisfied, Jack had given orders for Gibbs to take the crew into several waters and return in three weeks, bidding firmly that the stowaways accompany the Pearl. However, through a mixture of tears, pleading, threats to certain body parts, and numerous temper tantrums, Elizabeth Swann had finally convinced Jack to let her and her fiancée accompany him.  
  
Suddenly, the boy ahead of them stopped suddenly, jabbering excitedly and pointing. As he looked out to their left, his expression abruptly changed to terrified, and he exclaimed, "Abonsan!" several times before fleeing in the direction of which they had come.  
  
The trio stared blankly after him before Jack rubbed his hands together brusquely and continued on with his staggering gait. "Shall we?" he intoned cheerfully, looking not the slightest be phased.  
  
"Well, this is bloody wonderful," Elizabeth exclaimed sarcastically, stalking after her. Bugs clouded around her face, her dress clung to her body, and mud had begun to seep into her shoes. The gallant adventure she had envisioned so many times before was fading.  
  
"Oh, this is wonderful, just wonderful," Jack mimicked her in a high- pitched, nasal voice, throwing his arms about him, "Let me come, Jack, it'll be grand—"  
  
He slammed to a sudden stop, finding himself on the edge of a large clearing. The trio gaped at the scattered huts throughout the clearing, seeing the sluggish movements of villagers. They watched, unnoticed by the village, as one by one each person approached what appeared to be some sort of shrine composed of large bones and animal horns and one by one fell to their hands and knees before it.  
  
After this ritual had been complete, the people congregated around one centrally-located large hut, only several yards away from where Jack and his companions had attempted to submerge themselves into the brush.  
  
"Any more brilliance on how to handle this, Jack?" Will asked the captain, his tone reflecting doubt and a definitive edginess.  
  
Jack's mouth curved into a familiar gold-toothed smile. "O'course I do," he replied. The pirate rose from his crouched position, striding confidently into the village.  
  
Will and Elizabeth stared wide-eyed and disbelieve after him. Jack, don't-- !" Will hissed, lunging to grab the captain's clothing and significantly missing. "Not good," the blacksmith muttered, creeping after the flamboyant captain, Elizabeth firmly glued to his arm, "Definitely not good."  
  
Not heeding the young couple's hissed warnings, Jack reached within several yards of the murmuring villagers, throwing his arms wide in welcome, "Ahoy there!"  
  
Almost immediately, there was a sudden clatter of weapons and the group was suddenly surrounded by a group of people holding innumerable spears at throat level, faces lit with hostility and fear. Jack slung his pistol around his thumb, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence and surrender. He flashed them a hopeful, gold-glinted smile.  
  
"Parley?"  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
"Stop!" A voice yelled suddenly in English, "Basi!"  
  
The surrounded trio snapped to attention, Jack clasping his hands together and raising his eyes skyward, muttering a brief prayer to the powers that be. They watched, astonished, as a man pushed his way through the crowd, murmuring soothing words to the angry people in their native language. Suddenly the owner of the voice burst through the curtain of dark bodies, panting heavily. The three would-be pirates gaped at him. He was a large man, brow slick with perspiration and through his body was streaked with thick red mud and he was dressed in animal skin robes similar to the scant material of the villagers, he was still unmistakably white.  
  
Jack frowned at him, expression betraying his confusion, "Yer supposed to be black."  
  
"I am not?" the man replied, gesturing to his garb.  
  
Elizabeth realized abruptly that the spears had been lowered and launched herself into Will's arms. The people shifted uncomfortably, obviously perplexed by their strange and sudden appearances. The while man suddenly chuckled as a tiny child ran up to him and jabbered anxiously in the native tongue, pointing to the three and gazing up at him with saucer-like eyes. The man shook his head and smiled at the child, before switching his gaze back to the newcomers, "They wish to know if you are gods."  
  
Will and Elizabeth shook their righteous heads furiously as a slow smirk spread across the pirate captain's weathered face, "Depends on who ye ask, mate."  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "Could you help us, please? We're looking for—" She broke off, looking at Jack for assistance on how to proceed.  
  
"They called her M—"Jack began, his brow knitted in heavy thought, "Ma . . .Mar . . .Mal. . ." He threw his hands in the air in defeat, "About yay high, dark hair an' eyes. . ." He sighed in exasperation, clasping his fingers together with an expression of piety, "Anamaria?"  
  
The man's eyes flickered with something, the pirate could not distinguish what. He muttered something to the child who had spoken before and it scurried back towards a large hut. "I am called Jimoh," the man said.  
  
"Will, Elizabeth," Jack introduced, gesturing to the pair behind him. He pointed his thumb to himself, puffing his chest, "Captain Jack Sparrow."  
  
The crowd suddenly shifted and Jack's features curled warily. Slowly, like a wave, they sank to the dusty ground, each murmuring a revered, "Malika."  
  
"That's the one: malika!" Jack exclaimed triumphantly despite himself.  
  
The crowd had parted and sank to their knees before her and roughly several men pushed Will and Elizabeth to the ground, one grabbing each of Jack's arms, attempting to do the same. He struggling against him, so intent on freeing himself when a sharp commanding female voice broke the silence. Obeying its indecipherable command, the pirate was released.  
  
Rubbing his elbow and muttering distracted curses, the voice's significance suddenly broke into his consciousness. He jerked his head up.  
  
She was several feet away, standing straight and tall among the crouched visitors. Her eyes met his unflinchingly and strong enough, but he saw a weariness and sorrow there that he never before found in her eyes. She was dressed much like the rest, garbed in a dyed maroon cotton shirt, much like the camisoles she had usually worn under her pirate's shift aboard the Pearl, except this reached only to her last rib, leaving her smooth stomach exposed. She had donned a short animal hide skirt, fringed in grey course animal fur. On her head she worse an elaborate headpiece in which many braids had been piled into and a large rose shell necklace hung on a cord around her neck. She worse simple weather sandals and on her wrists and ankles were adorned with bracelets. The garb was almost worthy of her, Jack thought.  
  
Although her gaze locked with his defiantly, she showed little signs of recognition. Jack blinked. He had expected a sound slap, to say the least. That's interesting.  
  
Anamaria sighed very carefully, in her thoughts daring Jack Sparrow to make some snide comment. She knew he wanted a reaction, and she steeled herself not to give it to him. "Take them to my hut," she snapped in some of the few Himba words she knew before turning away in a flurry of beads. There were matters to be attended to before she had time for the likes of Jack Sparrow and his loyal puppy dog accomplices.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
- 


	5. Ana's Tale

Disclaimer: See Chapter one.  
  
My reviewers are amazing! I thank each and every one of you. And yes, here is your chapter that I owe for not posting all week. Um, does anyone know why when I do italics they don't transfer to ff.net? Just wondering...in case anyone knew off the top of his/her head...  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Chapter 5: Ana's tale  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
July 11  
  
-  
  
"Quaint," Will Turner commented as the trio was shoved into a hut. His eyes took in the mound of skins serving as a bed, the fireplace and the shrine. His gaze reached a small sack and lingered on a glittering edge. Not heeding Elizabeth's warnings, Will strode over to it and pulled it from its home, testing the balance. He knew this sword well; he had himself given it to Anamaria as a parting gift.  
  
Jack had gazed around him an d sank down on the furs, limbs grateful for the rest.  
  
"What do you suppose she'll do to us?" Elizabeth asked rather timidly, nibbling anxious on a long fingernail.  
  
Her unasked question, that which was resting upon each one's lips seemed to be: what now? They had found Anamaria, obviously in good keeping, so now what their next maneuver? Eyes shifted to the pirate captain, who began to smirk. "I daresay I'm in for a good scoldin' an' a slap at the very least," Jack remarked. However, from the weary veil he had seen earlier drawn over her eyes, he was doubtful.  
  
Elizabeth settled herself gracefully on the packed dirt floor as Will began to idly practice his footwork with the blade. Light footsteps sounded outside, and the burlap flap acting as a door was pushed back. Anamaria stepped quietly into the room, not meeting any of the occupants' eyes. "Ye must be thirsty," she muttered, brandishing a jug and pouring it into three crude mugs. Not water, for it was a rarity in the dry season, but cool milk.  
  
A heavy silence fell over the hut, dark and ominous. After several moments, Jimoh poked his head in, his dirt-streaked face beaming cheerfully at Will and Elizabeth, "Would you like a tour?" he exclaimed exuberantly. Immediately, the couple accepted and fled the hut, leaving the pirate captain and the princess in loud silence,  
  
Ana carefully bent her slender frame to sit on the floor, "What do you want?" she asked briskly, as if his presence was that of a pestering wasp.  
  
Jack pursed his lips and sat up straighter, assuming his business-like presence. "What I want," Jack stated as if it was as clear as the brilliant Carribbean waters, "Is me Spanish coin."  
  
Ana's surprised gaze swung around to his, and for just a moment her eyes glimmered with their familiar spark. One eye brow arched incredulously, and despite his grave tone, the corners of her mouth twitched. "Ye chased me across the bloody ocean to some Godforsaken village for yer coin, which ye gave to me as a gift as it were?"  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed as if he had only just now considered the logic of it and one of his hands fluttered to play against his chin, "Aye."  
  
Ana shook her head in astonishment and ran her fingertips over her braided hair, carefully removing the headdress which suddenly felt far too heavy on her temples. The coin burned at her side. "Got a lot of nerve, ye do, Sparrow."  
  
"Aye," he agreed with a gold glinted smile.  
  
"Ye've misplace it," she told him patiently, crossing her bangled arms against her chest. Jack scooted across the floor until he sat directly across from her, separated only by a foot of heavy air. He squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his face heavenward.  
  
Ana leaned back on her heels, studying him. He must have grown more daft in her absence, she concluded. "What in blue blazes are ye doin'?"  
  
The pirate peeked one eye cautiously open, "Go 'head. Get the slappin' over with." He then squeezed his eyes shut again and clenched his jaw in anticipation.  
  
Very patiently, Ana sighed. Jack Sparrow would see none of her fire. That was what he had come for, she knew, that old spitfire pirate Anamaria. She had faded.  
  
"No slappin'?" he asked finally, not opening his eyes.  
  
"I'll find somewhere for the three o'ye to sleep and have a meal brought in. It's too late t'head back now," Ana rose to her feet, heading towards the door, choosing not to answer his question.  
  
"Whoa!" Jack exclaimed, "No 'Jack, damn ye to hell, ye daft fool' an' so on? No slappin'? What's this?" Nimbly, Jack moved faster than her, grabbing her wrist and preventing her departure. He wagged a finger in her face, inspecting her solemn countenance, making it so there was barely inches between them.  
  
"Things have changed. I've changed."  
  
"Bloody 'ell!" Jack yelled, throwing up his hands, "It's the scenery that that's changed, the company that's changed. Not ye—Not I! Ye'll always be my—"he broke off, his face changing to that of a sullen child.  
  
"I've seen things, heard things. . ." she shook her head, "I'm tired, Jack. I can't do this. I have t'do this."  
  
"Ana, I—"Jack stared, seizing her hands.  
  
The burlap flap flew open and the soon to be Turners bounded into the tent, Elizabeth clutching a small, brown-skinned toddler in her arms, Jimoh close behind. "Jack, you have to see—"Will started to say, cutting himself off.  
  
Ana gently plucked his fingertips from her wrist, "Ah, I see ye have met me cousin, Reth," she told Elizabeth warmly. The little boy began to squirm, and, looking alarmed, Elizabeth quickly handed him to Ana, who deftly rested him on her hip, soothing him in his hushed language. The three occupants besides Jimoh gaped at her.  
  
"How did ye—?" Jack stred.  
  
Ana cut him off with a hostile look, "My son, remember Captain?"  
  
"Ah," Jack sighed his countenance betraying nothing. The remaining three fair-skinned spectators were looking from one to the other, faces etched with confusion, bursting with questions.  
  
"I think you have a story for your visitors, Malika," Jimoh said knowingly. Reluctantly, Ana handed the boy to him and gestured for Will, Elizabeth and Jack to come closer. Jimoh left, and the four settled themselves on the floor.  
  
Ana fiddled with her braids, reaching for a leather strap to keep them back from her face. Finally she met the curious stares of her visitors, "What do ye know of zombies?"  
  
Elizabeth frowned, "Why, that's im—"  
  
"Improbable," Jack interrupted, gesturing for Ana to continue.  
  
"That's what I thought," Ana admitted, "Until I saw it fro meself."  
  
"You think there are zombies here?" Will broke in with an incredulous look. Jack narrowed his eyes menacingly at the boy.  
  
Ana sighed, "I knew this was pointless," she muttered then raised her voice, "Go back to yer ships and the Carribbean. Forget that I saw anythin'."  
  
"No," Jack protested, crossing his arms across his chest. He shot a hostile look back at Will and Elizabeth. "A year ago ye didn't believe in curses," he reminded them.  
  
"I'm sorry, Anamaria," Elizabeth broke in, elbowing her fiancée in the ribs. Will looked reproachful and muttered an apology with a strangled grunt.  
  
"When I first came here, they said there was evil," Ana continued. "Then the first night, a woman named Hija, a good friend o'me aunt, disappeared. I was horrified, but none thought much o'it. Two nights later, I woke up to screams."  
  
Ana explained listlessly how she had rushed out of her tent to find the villagers in a panic and a group of armed people advancing towards the village, on of them being Hija. They had tried to stop the group, but each seemed to be in a trance. They had even attempted to attack the attacking party to no avail.  
  
"So it's like Barbosa," Will piped in, "They're immortal."  
  
Ana grinned dryly, "More like they're already dead."  
  
Jack choked on the liquid he had raised to his lips and coughed, "Come again?"  
  
"They're dead, caput, finito, no more, d—"  
  
"No, no, I've changed me mind. I get it," Jack said quickly, interrupting her.  
  
"But how is that possible?" Elizabeth asked practically. "If you're dead, then you're dead."  
  
"Not. . .if ye've been cursed by a voodoo practitioner," Jack interrupted, raising his hand to emphasize his pint, looking gravely serious. He tapped his forefinger against his chin, falling silent.  
  
"Yes," Ana said slowly, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully, "How did ye--?"  
  
"I heard lots o'stories, lass, durin' me time at sea an' ports. Sometimes the fiction be the facts a little twisted, that's all. Ye learned to read between the lines."  
  
"Last night," Ana went on, "Reth's older brother Chike was taken. We didn't find out 'til just a bit ago, prob'ly why ye received such a welcome. Left a message, too," she added unwillingly after a moment's pause.  
  
Jack's smudged black-rimmed eyes shifting to hers, urging her to continue, "An' this would say. . .?"  
  
"It was a threat," Ana elaborated, her eyes narrowing at him, her expression neutral as she shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"I figured,' Jack drawled, matching her stare, "An' it said. . .?" he prodded again.  
  
"With the sacrifice of Malika will the slaughter and arisings cease," Jimoh recited mechanically from where he had stepped unnoticed into the hut, kneeling on the ground.  
  
"An' ye would be. . ." Jack paused, his gaze and gesturing hands swinging back to Anamaria, "Malika."  
  
"Aye," she agreed, idly reaching behind her and plucking a bone dagger from the wall, running her fingers along the blade as if the turn of conversation was of no consequence to her at all.  
  
"Oh," Elizabeth sighed, looking rather horrified, "Well, that isn't a possibility," she said after a long moment, elbowing the pirate captain on her other side in the gut.  
  
"Aye," he grunted, "It is." Elizabth glared at him and he looked confused, "I mean it isn't. I mean. . .whatever she said," Jack rambled, gesturing frantically to Elizabeth.  
  
"We need to get you away, Malika, for your protection," Jimoh spoke up, drawing Anamaria's lethal glare away from Jack Sparrow.  
  
"Aye," Jack chimed in, "Back to the Caribbean, love."  
  
"No!" Ana burst in, not sure whom she was more angry with, "Ye," she motioned to Jimoh, "I expected more faith from ye. I won't abandon these people, not now. Ye should bloody well know that." She turned her trembling finger to Jack Sparrow and spat, "And ye—ye mangy hypocrite of a dog, ye vow ye won't be me back aboard yer fine ship, but here ye are again, followin' me and expectin' me to follow ye! Tell me why that be, Jack Sparrow!"  
  
"Ye can't do anythin' here but die for 'em, Ana," Jack pointed out logically, skirting her accusation, his tone smirking.  
  
"I want ye to stop, Jack. Stop this madness and go back to yer fine ship an d yer fine life and yer fine friends. Let me be!"  
  
Ana stormed out of the tent, the three pirates and missionary left to stare after her. Jack finally sighed and rolled his eyes, fishing into his deep pocketed jacket, "A'right, a hand o'cards to decide who goes after 'er?"  
  
An echoing slap permeated through the hut walls and Elizabeth stormed out, an indignant "Ouch!" following her swish of skirts.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Anamaria spotted Nyako speaking to her aunt, Shangazi as Ana called her, and joined them both, bowing to the older woman as a sign of respect, greeting them.  
  
"I heard you had some visitors, Malika. White like bone, I am told," Shangazi said wisely in Himba, her wrinkled hands clasped before her.  
  
"Yes, Shangazi," Ana replied in the same language, "They are. . .were friends from the islands."  
  
"The 'Captain Jack Sparrow' was very handsome," Nyako said in the same language, grinning broadly and raising her eyebrows suggestively at Anamaria.  
  
"Aye, an' he knows it," Ana muttered in English. Both women looked questioningly at her, but she shrugged it off, saying it was unimportant.  
  
"Do not forget our agreement, my dear," Shangazi reminded her gently, pressing her hands to Ana's shoulders and leaving the two girls.  
  
"I am sorry," Ana told Nyako mournfully, "For your brother."  
  
"Chike was a good person and could have been a good husband," Nyoko said tranquilly with a gentle sigh, "He will be embraced by the ancestors."  
  
"Ana!" Ana and Nyako turned as a swirl of grey fabric ran up to them. "I mean, Malika," Elizabeth corrected quickly, "Forgive me."  
  
"It's no matter," Anamaria told her with a careless shrug, "Nyako, Miss Swann," Ana made the introductions quickly while each stared curiously at the other's attire. "Why are ye here, Elizabeth?" Ana asked finally, it coming out harsher than she'd intended.  
  
Elizabeth winced, "It's complicated. I needed to get out, get away from all the coddling. It's my only chance," she explained embarrassedly.  
  
Ana allowed herself to smile at the girl, "Aye, it's acceptable." She paused, and then blurted out, "But why is Jack--?"  
  
Ana put her hand on Ana shoulder and grinned, interrupting her, "That, you'll have to ask him yourself, Malika."  
  
Ana's hands balled into fists at the constant title and lack of information. She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by an all too familiar drawl in her ear, "Who's yer pretty friend, love?"  
  
Jack had put his arm around her waist which she promptly slapped away and was smirking suggestively at Nyako. His eyes lingered on her bare chest, which nearly all women villagers revealed and thought nothing of it. He sidled up beside Nyako.  
  
"Me cousin," Ana ground out.  
  
Nyako looked somewhat flattered as Jack threw his arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek and drawing little patterns on her bare skin. Ana's blood boiled and she was ready to slug Jack when he whispered something in Nyako's ear. Ana watched triumphantly as Nyako's hand shot out and slapped his cheek soundly before yelling something back at him and she strode away. Ana laughed.  
  
Jack appeared confused and put out for only a second before sashaying to Ana's side, waggling his eyebrows. "Ana, how come ye don't wear clothes like that, eh?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed and Jack clamped his hands over his cheeks, knowing he was in for a slap. He yelled indignantly as he received not one, but two smacks against the back of his head. His eyes flew open to see Ana's retreating back and Elizabeth glaring daggers and him before storming away.  
  
"Bloody females," he muttered.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
It was late at night when Ana finally settled in to sleep, lashing her burlap closed and making sure her knife was securely tied to her thigh. She had not exchanged words with Jack Sparrow since his. . .introduction to Nyako. She wondered briefly if she should mention Nyako's lover to Jack and quickly squelched the thought. She had, however, had conversations with the young future Turrners about their seemingly eventful voyage.  
  
She lay her head down on the mat, the first thought arising in her mind asking herself how things had been so severely altered so quickly. Her exhausted thoughts, infuriated and hurting, switched back to Jack Sparrow.  
  
Bloody . . .pirate . . .  
  
It seemed that Ana had barely closed her eyes when she awoke with a start to the sound of screaming and scent of smoke.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
- 


	6. The Good and the Bad Side of Luck

Disclaimer: This belongs solely to green tea with 4 scoops of sugar, Michelle Branch tunes, and a late oven repairman. Oh, you mean the official one? Chapter one, mates.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Chapter 6: The Good and the Bad Side of Luck  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
Grabbing her sword, Ana dashed out into the cool night air amidst the surrounding chaos. Her first realization was that the village was burning. Frightened cries and the angry snapping of flames pierced the night air. Ana rushed into the center of the village, her foggy brain recognizing Nyako and Jimoh directing other villagers up to the western hill. Ana sprinted up to the several huts still closed up, flinging each one's entrance open and screaming a warning to rouse them. Mothers with screaming children and men holding weapons with no one to fight swarmed around her.  
  
Ana caught a loud unnatural cackle float through the air and her eyes locked on a figure in a hideous mask. The figure was dressed in long animal hide robes and the mask housed a gaping mouth, bristles of animal hair sticking up all around, and cat-like slit abysmal eyes. Its gender was indistinguishable.  
  
Ana's eyes narrowed and she rushed at the creature, blade posed in front of her. This must be her voodoo witch. Suddenly the witch began to retreat rapidly, and Ana chased it amongst the throngs of people into an abandoned portion of the village. The smoke which engulfed her was blinding so that the huts set ablaze were mere torches of hell.  
  
Coughing, she fumbled her way through the smoke and debris, catching a flash of movement to her right. She turned just in time to glimpse the sorceress dart into a hut, no fire appearing to have attacked it yet. Ana bared her teeth and charged in after it, kicking the heavy wooden door open. She skidded to a halt when she reached the interior, spinning around to search for her prey. Only one high most likely unreachable window and no other rooms...The screech of a cackle pierced her ears and the door swung shut and stuck with a loud bang.  
  
Dropping the sword with a thud, Ana pushed at the door frantically as they pungent smell of fresh smoke filled her nostrils. She craned her neck to see flames skating across the log-supported thatch. Her face twisted with horror, legs kicked viciously at the door.  
  
With a loud crack, a wooden beam crashed down over her head. Ana darted out of the way, flinging herself against the door. She felt one end of the log slab into her right sword hand, trapping her fingers. As this happened she screamed as a sharp searing pain accompanied an unnatural wrenching.  
  
Panting, Ana successfully shoved the blistering wood off of her fingers with her other shoulder. She barely realized the throbbing pain and recognized blearily that several fingers were bent at an aberrant angle at the tips.  
  
She began to yell as the flames built higher and her voice grew hoarse as she drown in the smoke. What a funny way to die for a pirate, on land.  
  
Ironic.  
  
Ana threw all her weight against the door then slumped to a crouching position against it, wishing death to be kind to her. Another small section of thatch settled to the dirt floor, spraying sparks.  
  
Ironic for Jack and his crew as well, she thought wryly, to come all this way to have her dead. And Jack...  
  
Thought the dense for and roar of fire overhead Ana heard a loud crash and squeezed her burning eyes closed, thinking this was the end. Strong fingers gripped her arm and yanked her forcefully from her position, sending her sprawling into the blessedly cool night air.  
  
She landed on something surprisingly soft and coughed several times to clear her lungs. She opened her eyes to find warm coffee ones glaring up at her. A lean filthy finger wagged in her face. "Serves ye right for runnin' into a burnin' building after some frightful creature, missy," Jack Sparrow panted.  
  
Ana rolled off him, scrambling to her feet, "The witch!" she exclaimed, quickly surveying the area. She offered Jack her hand, hauling him to his feet. Filled with new determination, Ana's tired limbs sprinted after the masked creature currently approaching the edge of the dense, dry forest.  
  
"Ana!" Jack hollered after her, watching her go, "Ana, 'aven't we had enough o'the runnin' bit?" Jack heaved a frustrated sigh before muttering curses under his breath, taking off after her and her prey.  
  
After a while, Ana slowed to a jog, picking her way through the thick threes and brush. This was her purpose and she could fulfill it tonight. Hell, she would end it tonight. The bloodshed stops here, she vowed silently. She heard the crash of footsteps behind her and didn't need to turn to know it was Jack Sparrow. Ana halted, doubling over in attempts to catch her breath; finally she raised her head and scanned the dark area.  
  
"There!" she cried, catching a glimpse of color to her right as a piece of fabric disappeared between the trees. The pair, as best they could, sprinted after it. Reaching the spot, Ana looked around and could see nothing, but she was undeterred. "That way," she commanded breathlessly, jogging to her right.  
  
Jack followed her silently. In the moonlight he could barely distinguish his bath or Ana herself among the trees, much less the masked creature. Much more, he glanced around worriedly and hesitated, wondering suddenly if they would be able to make their way back to the village. His heart sank at the realization.  
  
Ana stopped suddenly, her hand on her hips as she attempted to ease the burning cramp plaguing her. Her eyes darted around the surroundings, begging the powers for some pitying flash of movement or quick glimpse of their bounty. Her prayers were unheard.  
  
As second lapsed into minutes, Ana heard Jack shift behind her and take a step forward as a twig snapped. "Ana," Jack said finally, "We won't find it, not tonight."  
  
"We will!" she snarled, rounding on him and angrily closing the distance between them. "This way," she proposed quickly, motioning to her left.  
  
"Listen to yerself," Jack growled, grabbing her forearms, "Ye don't even know how t'get back, do ye? I can barely see ye meself and I doubt ye have much better eyes."  
  
"No!" Ana spat, tugging against him frantically, "I have to go, it's getting away! I have to stop it!"  
  
"Ye listen to me, missy," Jack growled in a very low and even dangerous voice, "Around 'ere, people may hafta obey ye, but not me. As yer captain, I say we're stoppin' here, savvy?"  
  
Her eyes flashed angrily as she dumbly watched him feel his way through the inkiness and begin to collect twigs and sticks. "Jack!" she said obstinately, "Ye may be the captain, but I ain't part of yer crew. Here, I'm in charge. Me! Now I say—"  
  
Jack dropped the armful of wood with a loud clacking noise and stared evenly at her. "Take one bloody moment an' listen to yerself, Miss High an' Mighty Anamaria Santagio! Ye be blind, blind t'see what's goin' on. So smothered by this need to prove yerself that ye don't see what's around ye. Yer people, they don't need no hero, they need a leader: someone approachable, not some sacred doll on a pedestal. 'Ave ye even asked anyone about ye father? 'Ave ye thought just once about the people carin' for ye, here and back in the Caribbean?"  
  
Ana shook her head stubbornly even as he continued to speak, meticulously stacking the twigs and logs into a pyramid. "Ye know," he went on, eyes locked on his simple task, "I bet tonight ye never stopped t'see if yer aunt or yer pretty little friend or that missionary was a'right, now did ye? I never thought I'd associate the word selfish with ye, but—"  
  
That was it. How dare he think that she—? Ana's patience snapped. Completely. She marched over to where Jack had straightened up, raising her uninjured hand, intent on demonstrating to Jack Sparrow the meaning of pain.  
  
As she reached him, however, both of his hands shot out to grab her injured one and wrenched her twisted fingertips back into place with several audible pops.  
  
The color drained from Ana's face and the searing knifing pain in even so little an area shocked her into stunned silence, no sound escaping her. Jack's wide dark eyes filled with an unreadable expression as a choked yelp escaped her as her teeth sank into her lower lip in an attempt for control, glittering eyes crashed closed.  
  
"Damn ye," she finally hissed though clenched teeth. A hurt expression flitted across Jack's face before he was able to remove it. He very gently began to massage the painful area with his finger tips and she stifled a sudden sob as her face crumbled as her good hand shoved uselessly against his shoulder. "Damn ye, damn ye, Sparrow," she forced out, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.  
  
His hands held her firmly in place and he felt her go limp, collapsing against his chest. Jack felt a river of relief begin to wave through him as he watched her careful, obligation-built façade crack with each falling tear. He watched her eyes snap open and replace Anamaria, his Anamaria into the body of this regal, preoccupied African princess.  
  
Ana's eyes fell shut again and she pressed into him, her face fitting perfectly into the niche of his shoulder and Jack finally let himself smile. This was it. This was the opportune moment. Of what, he wasn't sure, but he knew that the wind had finally gusted and caught his waiting sails. He wasn't sure how long the moment would last, but having found it, he realized abruptly that it was what he had been searching for.  
  
True, he was lost in the African forest with a voodoo enchantress wanting to steal their souls. It was true that Ana was most likely about to wrap her pretty fingers around his throat. It was true that this was one adventure that could be far from over, and it was very possible that some wild animal could be scouting them out for its midnight meal even now.  
  
Jack cracked his eyes open in the moonlight and glanced over Ana's dark head into the abyss. Then again, maybe not. But it was true he knew now that Ana was with him. Things were how they should be.  
  
"I'm sorry," he finally muttered into her neck, "But I figured it would be better if ye weren't expectin' it."  
  
Ana craned her neck to look up at him. She sniffed once and wiped her eyes, her hand coming away streaked with red paint. She stared at it for a moment then stared up at him with red-rimmed eyes, "I really 'ave been selfish, aye?"  
  
Jack wiped one of the crystal tear tracks from her cheek. He would likely never tell her, but as much as it bruised his heart to see Ana upset, he thought she looked beautiful. Looking at her now, her over-bright eyes were swollen, the skin around them colored in pink patches, and her lips seemed too dark in her pale face. Jack sighed, knowing that seeing her like this just made him want to—  
  
Jack's train of thought was interrupted by Ana's promptings and finally responded, "No, love. I just think ye'ave been a little confused in yer priorities. But now," he smirked and reluctantly released her to kneel and draw his flint to light the fire, "Ana the pirate is back."  
  
"Jack," Ana said sharply, scooping some dry leaves into a pile and watching Jack strike the flint onto them, "I can't leave, not now."  
  
Jack blew carefully on the tiny sparks and watched proudly as they blossomed and fed hungrily on the leaves and twigs, nibbling on the larger logs. "We'll see," was his only quiet reply. He shrugged out of his wool spun jacket and silently dropped it into her lap. "Yer not dressed for the occasion, love," he told her, propping his head against a fallen log and crossing his arms across his chest, his eyes fluttering closed.  
  
"Just because ye fixed me fingers don't give ye the right to call me 'love,'" Ana retorted, pulling it on. She cradled her injured hand across her stomach and curled up a few feet away from him on a bed of leaves. Not opening his eyes, Jack snorted doubtfully. Ana sighed and closed her eyes, succumbing to the exhausted realm of sleep.  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
"Ana, wake up."  
  
Ana forced her protesting eyelids open against the streaking light of morning. She blinked several times to clear her blurry vision, her gaze resting on Jack's wide eyes from where he stood several feet away. She shifted as to prop herself up by her good hand and clamber to her feet, "Jack, what--?"  
  
"Don't move," he hissed, looking above and beyond her.  
  
Ana heard a heavy snuffling behind her and felt her heart clench with fear. Very slowly and carefully Ana rolled over to face the wild beast, her fingers inching for the dagger at her thigh. She finally found herself gazing into a pair of wide, inquisitive dark eyes belonging to a rather large, hairy grey animal.  
  
"Jack, it's a monkey."  
  
"Ana, git over here!" Jack ground out through his clenched teeth as he glared at the curious primate apprehensively, fingers fumbling for his pistol stuck at his waist.  
  
Ana dropped back to the hard earth and lectured herself on the wisdom of using her dagger on her companion, blearily rubbing her eyes. The woman found herself conflicted whether to laugh at the stupidity of it or throw something at he pirate for disturbing her rest, "Let me say this again," she said slowly, pushing herself into a sitting position, "It's a monkey."  
  
"And a bloody big bugger!" Jack yelled, obviously upset at her nonchalance. Her life was at risk here! He inched closer to Ana and held out his hand desperately for her to take it, "Look at 'im, he's vicious."  
  
The creature nibbled on piece of wood, holding out its chubby hand to offer it to Ana with a charming smile.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at Jack. "Can't trust them," Jack burst out, suddenly hauling Ana to her feet and shoving her behind him in one fluid motion, "They could turn on ye at any minute," he insisted.  
  
The monkey shoved his fingers up his nostrils and loudly smacked his lips together.  
  
Jack jumped a foot in the air and leapt in front of Anamaria, thrusting his pistol out in front of him, "I'm warning ye, mate, stay right there, ye!"  
  
Ana wrestling the gun out of Jack's hands, slapping him halfheartedly on the arm. "Jack," she exclaimed, "the bugger's terrified an' not to'mention harmless!" She pointed at the primate, crouching with his hands thrown over his head, writhing on the ground.  
  
Ana scooted closer to the animal despite Jack's protests, scooping a large fig from the ground to hand him. Jack watched uneasily and indignantly as the grey monkey snatched it greedily, sticking out his tongue at Jack. "Ana, did ye see--!" he yelled, pointing to the now innocent looking monkey inspecting his prize.  
  
"Let's go, Jack," Ana rolled her eyes and tugged at the pirate's sleeve, dropping his gun back into his hands, "We 'afta find the village, genius."  
  
Jack trudged after her, shooting hostile glances over his shoulder continually. "Bloody monkey," he growled.  
  
Around midday, Ana's stomach began to growl loudly and she sighed, stopping their trek and looking around din frustration. "Damn," she muttered, shooting a deadly glance at a twittering bird. She narrowed her eyes and tapped her foot impatiently.  
  
"Don't ye have in any food in that bodice? Or Rum?" Jack complained, stumbling over himself as he craned his neck to stare up at the cotton clouds in the blue sky. "No," he sighed, a mischievous smirk skipping across his face as he glanced at her to gauge her reaction, "I suppose it ain't big enough for that." She thankfully ignored him, and while preoccupied Jack tripped over a large rock and nearly fell headfirst into a large crevice situated between two large boulders. Leaving the pirate woman to puzzle out their position, he cautiously crept inside.  
  
Glancing inside, Jack looked up at the massive smooth sides, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Sprawling, intricate carvings graced the stone walls. Jack traced them in awe with his gentle fingertips. It seemed to be a story of sorts, seeming to show a person tending a herd, a lion approaching the herd, and the person driving off the lion with what appeared to be a necklace. Jack frowned thoughtfully, finally opening his mouth and calling loudly for Anamaria.  
  
"Jack what—"Anamaria flew around the corner, thinking he had hurt himself and when she saw him standing before her, quite alright, her expression turned to anger. However, when Jack gestured grandly to the carvings, instead of the expected surprise or wonder, her face lit up and she laughed at the pure luck of it all. Jack watched her reaction, his brow creasing in confusion. "I know this place," she burst out, running her hands lovingly over the carvings, "I know how t'get back from here."  
  
"Lead the way, Miss Malika," Jack grinned, motioning towards the entrance.  
  
"It isn't too far," Ana explained, eagerly picking her way through the forest, her spirits raised in such a fashion that the title didn't throw her, "I just a bit west from this place."  
  
"What is it?" Jack asked.  
  
Ana shook her head, the smile fading a bit from her face. "I'm not really sure. It's a story of sorts, one of the legends of the ancient kinds. The cave itself is used sometimes for shelter at night durin' a storm when the herds are out grazin'."  
  
"Ah," Jack murmured, and the pair fell silent.  
  
"Jack," Ana asked finally, "How did ye find me?"  
  
Jack smirked and his gold teeth winked in the midday sun, "I asked."  
  
Ana huffed and rolled her eyes. She jumped cautiously over a log, ignoring the hand he had offered her chivalrously. "Fine, then why did ye find me?"  
  
He strode ahead of her, his eyes fixed on his path ahead. "Seems to me," he drawled, "That the Pearl's short a first mate."  
  
"Gibbs?" Ana questioned sharply, drawing even with him.  
  
Jack waved his hands expressively, "Gibbs is a good sailor, love, but he ain't one for the...night rendez-vous, savvy?"  
  
Ana opened her mouth ready with a sharp retort when Jack stretched his hand out in front of them. She turned and saw the village stretched before her and she let out a whoop of joy, turning to Jack with a grin. The expression crumbled as she saw his concerned and puzzled expression fixed on the village, and she switched her gaze back to it.  
  
Jack finally broke the heavy silence, gripping Ana's arm tightly, letting out a long breath. "Ana, no one's there."  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
ooooooooh, cliffie! Pardon for covering a kind of a long sequence of events in one chapter, but it just seemed to roll, mes amies. Ye can't mess with the fates an' muses, ye hear?  
  
Reviewers! To my faithful reviewers, I love you. If you haven't reviewed (and yes, I have noticed they've been slacking off lately) I hate to be the one who begs for reviews, but if you don't then I just don't know what you the reader need/want and what I can improve on! It's simple really. I want you. I need you. Oh, baby. Oh, baby. (10 things I hate about you)  
  
Ta!  
  
-  
  
-  
  
-  
  
- 


	7. On the Road Again

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One_

-

-

Chapter 7: On the Road Again

-

-

-

"Well I can see for meself there's no one here, Captain Brilliance," Ana retorted sharply in a tone that clearly stated her ideas about his intelligence level. She stepped over the high brush and strode towards the village, Jack following at a more sedate pace.

"I like that," he exclaimed cheerfully, "From now on, missy, ye can address me as The Brilliant Captain Jack Sparrow. No, no. Make that: the Brilliant and Incredibly Dashing Captain Jack Sparrow. No, wait! How about—" 

Ana clamped her hand on his arm to stop his rambling, stopping short when they reached such a distance that she could see the village clearly. Although it had been obvious there was no human movement before, they hadn't been able to see the actual state of the village. The huts were built with mud plaster walls, so they hadn't been completely demolished, rather now only the walls stood, somewhat slumped and scarred by the flames, giving Ana the distinct impression of being a ghost town.  "Jack," she asked suddenly, "Ye don't think that witch—"

"Nah," Jack interrupted her readily, too readily really for comfort, "They're smart blokes, prob'ly went t'find shelter other places."

Ana smacked her head to her forehead in realization, "That's right," she mused aloud, "the water. They'd need water an' a safe place for the animals, an' most likely the water supply was wasted in tryin' to put out the fire."

"The question is," Jack answered, his boot kicked idly at a charred piece of log, pausing at the remains of what had previously been Ana's hut, "Where would they go?" 

Ana shrugged tiredly, the mere shell of the village causing goose bumps to appear on her skin despite the hot sun blaring overhead. She was suddenly hit by inspiration, seeing a small desert rat peek its head out from the soil a little ways away and turned abruptly, running in the opposite direction. Jack stared after her, eyebrows raised curiously.

He sauntered up beside her as she knelt on the dusty ground, listening intently as she tapped a short stick at odd intervals in the earth. Her face lit up suddenly and she jammed the stick hard into the ground, soil crumbling beneath it. She hurriedly scraped the chunks of dirt away, reaching down into the gaping hole to hand up to Jack several gourd jars and some dried fruit wrapped in leaves.

Jack clutched the provisions to him protectively, watching her in amazement. "Neat trick," he commented, impressed. _Kind of like the rumrunners cash_, he mused, _only it was like magically appearing food, and it felt cool to the touch as well. These Africans did know their stuff._

The pair wandered up and down the destruction-filled streets with what felt like their most precious loot, finally spotting a hut on the far west side of town that had not been badly burnt by the fire. They sauntered inside, spreading out the food and drink on the floor. Ana kept half of the fruit securely wrapped and put aside two jugs of water and the Himba form of alcohol, which she didn't mention to Jack, so it could be consumed later.

Biting into a dried fig, Jack leaned his head back against the clay wall, closing his eyes contentedly. Opening them to take the jug of water Ana lazily offered to him, his eyes narrowed and caught on something hanging by a bone shrine, similar to the one that had been in Ana's hut. He set down the jug and the fruit, climbing to his feet wordlessly.

Ana watched curiously as he swaggered over to it and plucked a piece of parchment from the top, unrolling it carefully. He sauntered back to her, dropping it onto her lap and sweeping up the jug again, drinking deeply. Ana stared at it, eyes widening surprise. "It's a map," she said slowly, tracing her fingers along the rough sketch and red-outlined route. 

"Ah, Princess Brilliance, herself!" Jack exclaimed as though she had drawn the most ingenious conclusion, "Ye can be Princess Malika Brilliance Sexy Pirate L—"

Ana whacked him with the map, cutting him off, her eyes sparkling at the map's significance, "Ye know what this is?" she demanded with excitement. 

"Darlin' did ye just tell me that it was a map?"

"It says where they are!" she shouted, frustration evident. 

"But where are they?" he questioned, dark eyes narrowed in confusion as he intently studied the piece of parchment Ana was waving in front of his nose.

"Here, ye daft fool!" 

"But what's it mean?"

Ana sighed, throwing the parchment at him. As he opened his mouth to question her more, she reached down and shoved a piece of fig into his mouth before he could get a word out. 

"It's a map," she told him sharply, her tone telling him that he was on dangerous ground, "That shows where the villagers have gone to. Jimoh told me that durin'the different seasons they move around t'different locations, so this must be where the dry season village is. We were plannin' on goin' in another week or so, but with a change of plans…"

Jack swallowed the lump of fruit in his mouth. "So, that's where we hafta go?"

"Aye," Ana agreed, climbing to her feet and staring down with a set expression to lock eyes with the pirate. "Let's get started, then."

"Ana," Jack whined as she pulled him to his feet, "Can't we just sit an' rest a bit? Me toesies are hurtin', lass, an' walkin' ain't gonna make it better. Did I mention I don't feel so good?" 

She rolled her eyes and ignored his incessant protests, scooping up the provisions and creating a makeshift bag from the bedcovers. She shoved the bundle into Jack's arms, pushing him out the door into the bright afternoon sunlight. "From what I figure, it's about a day's walk. We'll have t'stop for the night, I reckon."

Jack groaned, trudging after her as they skirted the edge of the forest they had been wandering through not even several hours before, berating himself under his breath. "Ah, sure this be dandy, ain't it? Yer stuck now, Sparrow, why couldn't ye have stayed in the lovely Caribbean? But nay, ye have t'go chasin' the girl off to another continent, gettin' lost an' chased by witches, don't ye?"

Ana rolled her eyes as she caught his distracted mumblings, seeing that he was off in his little bubble world. She studied the map for a moment, pausing in her step and alternating glances between the parchment and her surroundings. _A river, a river.__ Aye, that was right_. _So they just needed to follow the river. Not to hard, right?_

_Wrong_. The streaky late afternoon sun blared against her eyes, and shielding them, she realized that the sun was sinking to the horizon. "Jack," she said suddenly. He seemed not to notice, humming tranquilly and staring up at a large tree. "Jack!" Ana yelled again, hitting him on the arm with the map. He started, eyes going wide. 

"Good God, Ana, ye don't need t'hit me!" 

"Funny," Ana grumbled, pointing to the falling sun. "We need to stop an' make a fire so we know where we are in the mornin'. It be gettin' dark fast."

Jack rolled his eyes, "If ye insist, love."  Not moving another step, he gracefully lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the ground, staring up amusedly at her. "Go 'head, make the fire"

Ana stared at him, "Why am I the one t'do it?"

"Because yer the lass," Jack stated as if his reasoning was obvious, "And the lass is always supposed t'wait on the man."

Ana narrowed her eyes and nodded sarcastically. "Hmm," she mused bitterly, "An' yer a man?"

"Come here an' I'll show ye what a man I am, love," Jack cooed, twisting one beaded lock around his finger seductively and staring up at her with a trademark smug smile.

Ana's arm shot out to slap him and he lightly caught her wrist, eyes darkening into seriousness. "Love, don't ye remember the last time this happened?" He lowered his lips dangerously to brush against her wrist.

She did remember, remembered all too well to be sure. After the whole ordeal with Adler and the bounty hunters, he had tried seducing her, beginning with kissing her wrist. One of the first real conversations they'd had about themselves as a pairing, and the last.  She knew that he remembered that as being the place that made her melt.

Ana's foot collided painfully with his ribs and she stalked away angrily, looking for firewood like she had been so dead set against finding in the first place.  

Jack smirked and leaned back against a small boulder, shining his grimy nails on his shirt and blowing on them triumphantly. _Aye, this was his Ana for sure. _He was Captain Jack Sparrow, mate. And Captain Jack got what he wanted. __

Ana slammed the branches on top of each other in her arms, each making an angry clacking sound as she bitterly thought of which torture method would cause Jack Sparrow the most pain. She was positive that Shangazi must have some sort of itching potion that would make him most uncomfortable. 

_Of all the arrogant, stuck-up, male pigs in the world, why was she stuck in the African wilderness with this one?_

Furiously starting back to where she had left him, so caught up was she in her heated thoughts that she stumbled over a loose stone. Firewood rained down around her. Ana squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a frustrated scream.

 She felt something grab her round the middle, heave her over its shoulder, and take off down the bank. Ana yelled angrily, beating her fists uselessly down on Jack's back as she hurled useless curses at him. Halting suddenly, he deposited her in the slow-moving stream.

Ana sputtered as she splashed about angrily trying to find her footing in the waist-deep water, glaring at Jack as he stood and stared back at her, arms confidently crossed over his chest. "What was in bloody hell was that for?" Ana demanded irately, her drenched clothes sticking to her skin as she stood up.

"T'show that I'm the man and I'll do as I please with ye," Jack answered obnoxiously.

Ana clenched her fists and sent one flying at his gut, knocking him fully into the water. He surface, slowly spitting out river water in a steady stream, regarding her with serious eyes. "Now ye asked for it, love," he muttered passively.

Jack lunged for her, knocking her back into the shallow water of the riverbank and easily pinning her wrists. "I think we've found ourselves in such a position before, Princess," Jack reminded her, gold portion of his grin glinting in the fading sunlight.

Ana thrashed beneath him, whipping them around so she now sat straddling him. "I think this be somethin' new," she drawled deliberately.

"Oh," Jack uttered through his surprise, the beginnings of a new smile flitting across his face, "I don't think we've tried this position 'afore, darlin'."

"We've never tried any position 'afore!" Ana screeched. 

She slapped him hard; his face snapped to the side with the blow. He slowly rotated his jaw, making no response to move his head back defiantly as was his normal reaction.  

"Ana," he said, blinking slowly as his eyes stayed focused to the right of her, "Is it normal t'have a log with two eyes floatin' towards ye?"

Eyes snapping wide with shock, Ana rolled off of him and scrambled to her feet, grabbing his wrist and pulling her along with him. Just in time the two leapt back as a pair of wide jaws with rows of jagged teeth barreled down on the place where they had been only seconds before.

"Ever seen a little croc around Florida or one o' those places?" Ana asked, chewing her lip anxiously as they scurried back onto higher ground. The beast chose not to follow them, sinking back to submerge itself and wait for other prey.

Jack nodded breathlessly, face still housing its panicked expression.

"That was its great granddaddy," Ana explained, heaving a deep sigh as she anxiously picked at her sopping clothes and unsuccessfully attempted to wring the water out. Her fingers moved to twist her hair to remove the water, only to realize it was still in tight braids.  Sighing, she trudged up the bank to where they had left their makeshift camp, beganning to stack the scattered firewood once more.

  
Admiring the way that Ana's clothes clung to her dark body, Jack shrugged out of his thick jacket and untied his sash, spreading them over a low tree branch beside the place where he had laid his hat neglected hat and carefully deposited boots. Grinning mercilessly, he peeled off his thin shirt. 

Ana turned with her arms stuffed with firewood, and with her eyes catching on a shirtless Jack Sparrow, the firewood flew from her grasp once more. "Jack!" she yelled heatedly, kneeling to pick them up once more, "Whatever's in ye head, get it out!"

Jack protested, countenance innocent, holding up his hand in peace, "Hold up there, I just wanted to dry out me shirt, that's all. Yer welcome to join me…"

Ana rolled her eyes, shifting uncomfortably in her damp clothes and focusing her gaze on her meager task as to not allow her eyes to be drawn to him. The sun setting, Ana made a cheery little fire and crouched beside it, holding out her hands to its warmth to dry her damp body. 

The sun waved its farewell over the horizon and Jack sat a little ways away from her, humming benignly as he drew a pocket knife and began to absently whittle a piece of wood. They ate more fruit and drank a rationed portion of water, Jack finally discovering the alcohol much to his liking, and then the pair mostly settled in silence. As darkness set in, Ana fed more wood into the fire, her skin feeling clammy to the touch; after all, a barely existent shirt and small kilt-type bottom, both damp, were not sufficient coverage. 

Jack carefully touched his shift, finding it still damp. He tugged his jacket from the branch and shoved one arm in to ward off the chill and paused, suddenly thinking better of it when he spotted Ana's condition. Wordlessly, he silently stepped behind her and draped it over her bare shoulders. 

Ana's head whipped around at the pressure, mouth falling open. "No," she insisted, handing it back to him, "Ye'll need it."

Jack dropped down beside her, spreading his legs leisurely and propping his head up on his damp sash and ignoring her comment. Ana spread it over him in protest, sitting back and crossing her arms over her goose-flesh chest as she stonily stared into the fire. "Ana, don't be stupid," Jack advised her hotly, "Ye'll catch a chill."

"No I won't." she said stubbornly.

"Mercy's name, Ana, yer not invincible," he told her in exasperation, "Bein' daft is somethin' I expect from me, not ye, now ye take it or come 'ere so we both can have it."

Ana shuddered suddenly as her slight shivers added up, a petulant scowl settling itself on her face. She crawled over to him and lightly curled up beside him, barely touching. Jack rolled his eyes, muttering an oath as he still felt her trembling. Strong fingers seized her by the arms and hauled her into the cradle of his legs so she was lying sprawled across his chest, ear pressed against his heart, spreading the jacket so that it covered her. 

Jack smiled and closed his eyes briefly. A deep rumbling in his chest reached Ana's ears and she realized that he was humming peacefully some tune that she couldn't recognize. 

The woman shifted against him, frowning thoughtfully. "Jack," she finally murmured, bursting with questions and figuring now was a good a time as any to ask, "Why did ye come after me?"

"I told ye," Jack told her, and she got the distinct impression he was rolling his eyes, "It's me Spanish—"

"Damn it, Jack," Ana growled, trying to sit up and finding his arms were steel bands keeping her in place, "It isn't yer bloody coin, and ye know it."

"Why did ye leave me, then?" Jack shot back at her.

She ignored the childish reasoning that she had asked him first and dropped her head back onto his chest, staying perfectly still for several moments while she thought about her response. "I had t'finish what me father started. I know I could 'ave bloody well ignored it, but I know I'd always be thinkin' o' the 'what-if's' an' the obligation I 'ave." She sighed, teeth imbedding themselves in her lower lip, speaking in a smaller voice than Jack had ever heard her, "Ye don't know how much I've wished things were different."

"Nay," Jack answered her slowly, craning his neck up to study the top of her head, "Ye can still come back t'the Caribbean, t'the Pearl. Nothin's ever final."

Ana didn't answer, beginning to nibble on her lip. Jack choked, steeling himself to say those words that he once swore he'd never admit, "I'm—I'm—"

"Aye, yer…" Ana prompted curiously.

"I'm s—s--so—"

Ana rolled yer eyes. "Yer sorry. Good, fine, dandy. I'm sure ye are."

"No yer not sure!" Jack exclaimed petulantly. _The moon and the stars and this forest were doing strange things to the pirate_, he thought accusingly, "Ye want to know why I'm here, don't ye? It's like…" he searched for a metaphor that she might understand. "It's like the Pearl."

Ana huffed in frustration, squirming against the bonds that held her. _Not that bloody ship again…_ "Jack, stop gettin' all philosophical on me. Yer gonna regret what ye say in the mornin'."

"No," he protested defiantly, voice growing more subdued with fatigue, "'Cause all it's true and gotta be said." He started to explain his metaphor again, one of his hands weaving its way into Ana's thick braids. "It's like the Pearl. She's me freedom, she's me possession o'value, she's me shelter. But ye, yer that an'more. Yer me home, the one that I can't ever lose."

Ana felt Jack's lips brush against her forehead and his lips curl into a gentle smile. His rough speech grew softer, lasping into that from before he turned pirate and all the coarse years at sea and rowdy company had hardened him. "I'll always find me way back to you, but all I can do is hope that you'll find your way back to me."

Ana felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. She knew it was the drink speaking so gallantly, but still this was what her girlish fantasies had been hoping for all along. "I will," she whispered, reaching her hand up to rest on his cheek, "Pirate's oath."

She waited in heavy silence for his reply. When she didn't get one, Ana twisted her head up, catching sight of his softened face in the gold firelight, eyes closed and fast asleep, an innocent smile capturing his lips.

Ana rolled her eyes. "Figures," she muttered in frustration, nestling into his warmth and closing her eyes, attempting to dream herself into the same place Jack Sparrow now was. 

A moment later, she heard a sudden twig snap to her right and tensed under Jack's heavy coat, hand itching for her dagger just below her hip. She poked Jack sharply, not turning around to alert the intruder. Jack grunted and swatted her hand away, obviously deep in drunken sleep. Ana sighed. _A rock, he was when he was out like this_. She'd have to do this on her own. 

 Ana thought better of her dagger, realizing that Jack's cutlass lay several yards away neatly tucked beside his hat. She pushed off the jacket and leaped up, her dagger in front of her menacingly, still knowing it would do little good depending on what she was facing. 

Through the light of the glowing embers, Ana could see the outline of a large man motionless along the edge of the clearing. Seizing a large knotted stick she shoved it into the fire, the stirring sparks showing her just who she was facing. In the brief flash, she gasped as she saw his eyes.

They were rolled back into his head, no pupils visible and only the white glaring back at her. She saw the scars marring his grayish body and realized with a rush of panic that this was a zombie, the undead.  Anamaria fought to breathe.

_How do you kill the dead?_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_AN:_

_Missymouse__: if you're still asking and haven't gotten my replies yet, I don't think POTC gave Anamaria a last name so I've just made one up. However, I have no qualms about you borrowing 'Santagio' if you so like. Good luck!_

_Please review! Those who do so so faithfully, here's to you!_


	8. Late Nights and Early Mornings

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One._

-

-

-

Chapter 8: Late Nights and Early Mornings

-

-

-

-

Ana grasped her dagger tightly, looking out of the corner of her eye to see the sleeping pirate captain roll over and snort, murmuring something as he sighed. She locked her gaze, black against unseeing white, with the intruder. She threw the stick into the fire that she had just used to stir it, praying that it would catch a flame and shed the desperately needed light.

Slowly with a labored grunt, the zombie stepped forward around the fire, seeming to tilt back and forth as he walked. She could see that in his hand he grasped a large rough club. She glanced around, chewing her lip as it paused before suddenly rushing at her. 

Ana met it with a warrior yell, slashing out with her dagger. It arched through the air to imbed itself into his neck. The thing was not phased, smiling with a mouth full of rotten teeth and swinging his club madly through the air. Throwing her head back, she barely managed to avoid a blow to the head and leaped out of the way to avoid it coming at her gut.

Feeling triumphant with herself, she didn't see it coming, hurling out of the darkness to catch her across the knees. Anamaria stumbled back, falling to the soft earth with a muffled thump and angry cry. Seeing the club rear back again, she rolled quickly to the side, the weapon thudding dangerous close to her ear.  

The woman, weaponless, looked around frantically as the dead man raised his club from the ground and staggered towards her fallen form. Desperately, she rolled to the side, she sprang to her feet. 

Now situated on opposite sides of the ironically cheery fire, Ana scooped a large rock from the ground and flung it into the far side of the embers, glowing coals springing up to scald the skin of the attacker. 

He grunted, throwing up his grey-tinged hands to brush them away, temporarily hindered. 

"Jack, ye bloody man, wake up!"  Ana screeched desperately, backing away from the fire into the shadows.

The pirate curled his legs up and snored loudly. 

The zombie, angry black burnt scars visible on his monstrous face and shoulders, fixed his sightless eyes on a new target: Jack Sparrow. 

Ana's heart thudded to a stop. 

"Jack!" she yelled hoarsely, making a desperate lunge for his forgotten cutlass as the aggressor started with his staggering step towards the passed out pirate. Rushing at him with a burst of new determination against this tireless, bloodless foe, Ana swung the sword madly with both hands. 

Later, she would realize that the dead tissue of his body and bones must have become softer than a normal person, but at the time what happened next came as a unimaginable shock and the event that haunted her nightmares.

The zombie's head fell neatly off.

Ana's terrified and horrified scream pierced the heavy night air.

It fell to the ground with a thud, bloodless with only grey-purple tissue visible where there should have been a fountain of red. The foe swung his club madly in the air, enraged with the loss of his head. Not able to sense the obstacles that surrounded it, the bludgeon crashed into a large tree trunk, flung from the decapitated man's lifeless fingers. 

Ana seized it in her shaking fingers. With a snarl she began to beat the possessed corpse, driving him back into the darkness. The thing stumbled backwards as she aimed one vicious blow to the abdomen. She bared her teeth, driving the broad end of the club once more into his soft stomach. The zombie doubled over and lost its footing, tumbling back over the edge of the river bank.

It rolled backwards into the dark stream, landing with a loud splash in the water. Ana strained her ears, but heard nothing for several moments, not even the sounds of advancing footsteps. Ana tensed, readying her crude weapon again.

Suddenly a large splash and sharp snapping of teeth on bone shook the still night, and with the faint light from stars and the fire glancing off the water, Ana saw two creatures struggling in the water. One was clearly winning. Lowering the club, Ana breathed a sigh of relief. _Mamba* had come to their aid. _

Attempting to walk back towards the spot where Jack lay slumbering, her limbs suddenly went weak in realization of the sudden events. She squeezed her eyes closed, throwing down the club with a muffled thump to the soft ground as if it had scalded her fingertips. 

Several feet away, Jack Sparrow jerked awake, his eyes flying open. Blinking several times to distinguish dream from reality, his gaze switched from Anamaria's swaying to the body-less head that her horrified gaze was fixed on. Jack heaved a sigh, climbing to his feet. He'd be slapped for this one, to be sure.

"Ye've been busy, love," he remarked finally, scooping up the abandoned club casually and grasping it in one hand as if testing the balance of one of Will Turner's fine swords. 

The woman's mouth fell open as she watched him waltz over to where the bloodless and motionless head rested. He bent over, glared into the darkness, and suddenly swung the weapon to connect the butt end soundly against the proximity of the ear. 

Anamaria clapped her hands over her mouth and her eyes went wide in shock as the head flew out in the direction of the river, uttering a small cry. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she was able to form words. "Have ye no respect for the dead?" she accused him finally, a horrified expression set firmly on her face.

"He isn't dead, Ana. Whoever he was in life, the spirit ain't there. It was replaced by somethin' evil."

 "Oh." She mentally kicked herself. What a brilliant conclusion to make; a fool she was, already knowing and forgetting this small fact. She stared at the ground and sank her teeth into her lip. 

Hands on her forearms made her glance up to meet Jack's dark gaze, eyes filled with golden threads in the firelight. The pirate led her to where he had been sitting, stooping to pick up his sword. He settled her down beside him, similar to their prior position, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she used his shoulder to cushion her head. He shook out his coat and regally spread it over them once again.

Kissing her temple, he placed the sword and club beside them, easily within reach. His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered to her. "Why didn't you wake me?"

Ana's palm shot out of the darkness to bounce off of his forehead. "Fool o' a pirate, ye are," she hissed as he protested indignantly, "don't ye think I tried?"

"I think ye just wanted the glory for yerself," Jack predicted with a smirk, condescending finger wagging just beyond the tip of her nose. 

The woman rolled her eyes, giving up as she sighed softly and buried her face in Jack's chest, her eyelids drooping with emotional and physical exhaustion. "Right ye are," she muttered indifferently.

Jack smiled smugly, fidgeting back and forth to get comfortable in the earth. "I'm always right," Ana heard him mutter as she drifted off to sleep. 

-

-

-

-

-

-

_Bloody bird…_

Jack wrinkled his nose and squeezed his eyes more tightly closed in attempts to ward off the yellow light burning through his eyelids. Somewhere above him, a bird was singing…if one could call _that _singing. _More like annoying rubbish, _Jack amended, attempting to roll over.

_Something was in the way_, he realized thoughtfully. The pirate blinked his eyes open, lashes shielding him from the risen sun. Anamaria was curled against him, dwarfed by his thick jacket. Her hand was resting over his heart. Jack's stomach flipped at the realization, warmth spreading through his stiff appendages. A slow smirk inched its way across his face. 

Attempting to move his arm and finding it numb and unable to move beneath Ana's weight, Jack narrowed his eyes mischievously, poking her in the bicep. She grunted and settled down more heavily on him. 

Jack frowned. He tried again. 

Ana's hand shot out to lock iron fingers on his wrist. Not opening her eyes she mumbled, "If ye do that again, I'll have t'begin cuttin' certain body parts off."

Jack's eyes widened in horror, "Ye wouldn't!"

"Maybe," Ana replied, sleepily opening her eyes and regarding him with a cat-like expression, "But I don't think ye'd want t'take the chance, aye?"  The dark-skinned woman rolled off him, climbing onto her cramped legs and stretching them leisurely. 

Jack screwed up his face. Aye, she most likely would. He'd heard stories…The pirate shook his head with an expression of horror on his face; it was a scary thing, indeed to threaten a man with. 

Ana tossed lightly tossed the now-sitting pirate the bag of provisions, studying the map in front of her. "Come on," she told him cheerfully, "If we be lucky, we'll get there by noon."

Jack hauled himself up a tree to a standing position, stumbling after her grumpily. "Hey, Ana…" he tried to ask her as she pushed through the brush ahead of him. "Last night, was it real?"

Spinning around to face him, Ana put hand on her hip, "Ye mean the a'cursed zombie when ye wouldn't wake up and help a poor, defenseless princess?" 

"Aye," Jack agreed, leaning on his sword handle as he contemplated her dangerous stance. 

"Then 'aye's' yer answer," Ana rebutted sharply, turning on her heel to continue on their way, Jack following with complaints marring the tip of his tongue. 

"What about breakfast?" he demanded tetchily some time later, stopping for the second time in ten minutes to sit on a mossy boulder and stare pleadingly up at her. 

Ana bit her tongue and raised her eyes skyward asking for patience. "Ye have the bag o'food there in yer own two hands, Jack," she pointed out finally.

"Ah yes," Jack realized with a grin, opening the bag and digging around in it. Triumphantly he pulled out a dried fig, only to stare at it bleakly. "Can't ye make a fire an' cook me somethin'?" he asked impetuously, reminding her of an overindulged child. 

"I swear ye are the most stuck-up, mangy, spoiled rotten pirate I have ever met!" Ana roared in frustration, throwing her hands up. 

"Aye…" Jack agreed, leaning on his drawn-up knee to rest his chin in hand, meeting her eyes knowingly, "But ye love me."

The African woman's mouth opened and closed several times, unable to think of a retort. She closed her eyes and cast them downward, pursing her lips and turning away from him. "We should continue on to the village," she said in a tight voice, "Will and Elizabeth will be wantin' to know that yer safe."

Consulting her map, Ana stomped off through the forest on her way, not giving him the satisfaction of a backward glance to see if the pirate was following. 

Jack snatched up the bag and sprang off his perch, scurrying after her as she marched on like some kind of warrior. Her reaction frankly puzzled him, but yet…_she didn't deny it_, he reminded himself smugly.   
  


"Ye do love me," Jack pressed, quickening his pace so he was right behind her.

Ana said nothing, her face expressionless as she continued to hurry in the same direction.

"I know ye do," he said again, knowing if he continued on she would eventually…

Ana snapped. As she whirled around, the pirate almost plowed into her, her dangerous finger shoving itself into his face. "No more!" she yelled angrily, slowly advancing on him so he was forced back step by step. 

"I have had it with yer sweet words and yer complainin' and yer 'come back with me' because frankly, I can't do it! I can't leave, and if I stay, I can't love ye! Understood?"

Jack's head met the back of a tree and he was trapped. Gulping, he gazed into her furious eyes, something in them making him look harder. However as soon as he recognized it, she had slammed down a veil barring emotion from her features. "Impeccably so," he squeaked.

"Good," she snapped, dropping her finger and stepping back, "because the village is right through those bushes."

His eyebrow's rose and he blinked at her through dark eyes, carefully scooting around her to look for himself. Indeed it was, with the dark-skinned people moseying about with their cattle and the small children playing in the dirt.  "Shall we?" he asked her finally.

"Aye," she replied, pushing her way through them and stepping out into the clearing. Triumphant shouts began to erupt around them as the tribe realized the pair's presence, and almost instantly, Anamaria was swarmed by children and the villagers, all beaming at her and appearing to be in prayers of thanksgiving. 

Through the chaos, Ana's eyes locked with Jack's and both froze, breath catching and heart's pounding. 

A quiet cough at his side caused the pirate to break the contact, glancing down to his right.  A white-haired, heavily adorned woman whose head came to his shoulder stood beside him, following his prior gaze to stare at the display. 

He recognized her as Anamaria's aunt and the girl Nyako's grandmother, the person who had been leading the tribe. _What did Jimoh say she was called…Shan—something. _He bowed his head in respect to her. 

"I thank you for returning my niece to us," the woman said quietly in heavily accented English, her tiny beady eyes steady on Anamaria.

Jack's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his mouth opened to voice his surprise at her knowledge of the language. Gaze switching to her lined face, he realized it must have been Jimoh who had taught her as well. 

"But," she continued, "I fear you have bad effect on Malika. You are visitor, but know she does not need you."

The pirate's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. He hadn't been expecting _that_ of all things from this elderly woman. However, her next words pitted themselves deep in his stomach.

"You are not wanted here. Stay away from her."

-

-

-

-

-

-

*Mamba = crocodile

AN: ugh, this chapter was horrible to write and just took forever! Reviews would be so incredibly lovely and hopefully would make the next chapter less painful to write. 

Much love to my reviews and readers.

_~Night Rose_


	9. A Pirate, or a Princess or a wife!

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One._

_Dedicated to with a huge thank you to all my reviewers.__ Vous êtes magnifique. Vraiment. _

-

-

Chapter 9: A Pirate or a Princess…or a wife?!

-

-

-

-

Will Turner hugged Elizabeth closer to him from where they had propped themselves against a large log, surveying the scene. The tribe was obviously in celebration, stomping their bangled feet around an enormous fire at the center of the human circle. Every person from the very old to the withered and ancient danced, laughing and calling out in their thick language, occasionally raising their hands sky ward in rhythm with the beaded instruments and insistent drums. 

Suddenly the music became more fervent, more driving, and Will's heart beat faster, caught up in the excitement coursing through the night air. 

The young and the old faded to the outside of the circle, back to the outskirts where Will and Elizabeth had distanced themselves, and a group of twenty or so men and woman shimmered into view from behind the fire

Will squinted, watching as they wavered with the smoke, moving bodies in an ancient rhythm. The dance grew more and more intense, calling on the gods and heavens full of smiling ancestors. The blacksmith was left briefly wondering how long this frenzied celebration could continue. 

As if hearing his thoughts, the music suddenly waned and the pounding drums fell silent, the only sounds human breathing and the soft murmur of shell-beaded instruments. Slowly the music returned, the drums choosing a more sedate pace, and the people began to slowly dance around the great fire and laugh again. 

Elizabeth relaxed the muscles she hadn't know she had clenched and leaned back into Will's embrace. "Will," he heard her murmur sleepily, "Have you seen Jack or Ana?"

Will heaved a sigh. Truth be known, he hadn't seen either for several hours. He and Elizabeth had barely had a chance to exchange words with Anamaria before she was whisked away by a group of female visitors and the Shangazi. A more subdued Jack Sparrow than the young blacksmith had ever seen had greeted the pair, listlessly recapping the events that had occurred between the two before discovering a type of liquor the Himba had produced themselves. 

Obviously he had left out many details, Will knew, and the captain seemed more preoccupied than usual_. It must have been something with Anamaria_, Will thought with concern. Frankly, a disheartened Jack Sparrow was something few had ever seen and not a good thing, to be sure.

"Your friend," Jimoh broke in suddenly, joining the pair to perch beside Will, "I believe is over there."

Following Jimoh's stubby pointed finger, Will could see Jack clutching a gourd bottle, spinning and swaying to the music. He was all the while winking and smiling suggestively at a group of young giggling Himba women in typical Jack Sparrow fashion. 

"You can take the man from the pirates…" Will murmured wryly, "But you can't take the pirate from the man."

Jack suddenly spun around, spotting the trio so intently observing him. He gave them a triumphant smile, waved seductively at the girls, then swaggered back to the group of light-skinned people, almost tripping over himself as he neared them. He plopped down besides Jimoh and threw his arm around the startled missionary's shoulders.

"Enjoyin' the scenery, mate?" he slurred in greeting. Leaning across the missionary's lap, he whispered loudly in the proximity of Will's ear, "Almost rivals that bouquet o'Tortuga, aye?"

Will wrinkled his nose and bit his lip, shifting uncomfortably. He nodded almost indistinguishably, hoping Elizabeth wouldn't notice No such luck. 

She craned her neck around, her hands planted ion his chest to give her the advantage of giving him a hard shove if he deserved it. "Tortuga?" Elizabeth demanded shrilly. 

While the engaged couple began to fight, (rather, Elizabeth screeched and Will would attempt to pacify her) Jack rather lost interest, focusing on the dancers instead. They were no fun, those two: too tame. Now, if he and Ana were to go at it—

The music ceased abruptly and the entire company dropped to a couched position. 

A lone slender figure materialized behind the dancing flames, moving arms and hips seductively as she swayed into the firelight, the light tapping of drums following her.  

Jack leaned over closer to Jimoh again, pointing his finger thoughtfully in the direction of the dancer, ""What she doin' then?"

Jimoh swallowed uncomfortably and tried to inch away from the pirate, fixing his eyes on the ceremony. "The Himba are a matriarchal society…but even so, it is expected that all women must marry."

The pirate's attention snapped away from the red-cloth dress dancer and his eyebrows shot up. "What?" he spat.

"She has been given one full moon cycle to make her choice, and her aunt insists she choose a husband tonight. In marrying, her influence over the tribe will be reduced as her husband takes some of it, but Shangazi believes that this will better the tribe."

Jack shot him a look, clearly stating 'Go on.'

The missionary concluded quickly, his eyes shifting to anywhere but the pirate. "This is it. If she accepts the bridegroom's offer, she will let him dance with her."

The pirate's mouth fell open for an instant, watching a sinewy, bare-chested Himba man bow before Anamaria. His mouth snapped shut and black eyes narrowed with resolve. "Bloody hell she will."

-

-

-

-

Ana's eyes flitted nervously around the company as she tried to concentrate. She felt like Barbosa's dancing pet monkey. _For heaven's sake, lass_, she berated herself, _yer__ an accomplished woman, now go out there and show the likes of them that_

She shut her eyes, letting her body flow to the rythem, forgetting her obligation to marry that she promised for this night. _Let Jack Sparrow watch this_, she thought with a stab of satisfaction.

Ana rolled her hips, tipping her head back and letting the warmth of the fire and fragrant night breeze caress her skin. The steps that she had been taught that had felt so awkward before now came naturally as she twisted her bangled arms over her head.

Moving her feet and hips, she watched solemnly as a young warrior approached her. She smiled teasingly at him, and he fell to his knees as she swayed in a circle around him, letting her hands caress her own skin and then brush over his thick braids. However, when he rose to follow her, she pushed him back, fluttering away.

The next man she reached was Tabari, who did not house a hopeful or enthusiastic expression. She was sure he did not want her as a wife, but would have her out of respect of the culture and Ana, his friend. Marriage to her would bring great honor to his family, she knew. Her eyes caught Nyako, looking on anxiously with clasped hands. Ana pulled him to his feet, leading him over to the knot of people where Nyako stood. Pressing a kindly hand to his shoulder, she left the pair. 

She could sense a commotion and several angry voices to her left, but thinking that it might be Tabari's upset family, she turned in the other direction to continue her rounds, wondering what the chances were that she could just keep at this all night without choosing anyone and this whole business might be forgotten. 

Why on God's earth had she even accepted Shangazi's proposal? _Because you want her acceptance,_ a nagging voice piped up from somewhere in her subconscious. She glared at nothing, feeling her entire being fraying and leading her two directions. A pirate or a princess, Ana mused, _which one am I?_

Letting the argument rage in her mind, Ana continued to dance to the subtle music, her eyes once more drifting closed. Well, she could at least enjoy herself a little if this was her last night of being a free woman. She grew more bold, rolling her hips in slow circles and allowing her arms to weave charms through the heavy air. 

A rough hand was gently pressed against the side of her abdomen and her left hand was caught in a large warm one. Like she was a child's puppet, the hands from behind guided her in the dance. 

Thinking it was another suitor, Ana let a lazy smile curve across her lips, her free hand fluttering up behind her head to rest on one side of the puppeteer's head. 

Slender fingers angled in smooth locks, unlike the thick multiple braids the Himba men wore. Fingertips brushed across the wooden beads and familiar worn cloth. 

Anamaria's eyes flew open in recognition. 

Amidst her anger, she realized suddenly if she rejected him angrily that the people would surely punish him by imprisoning or death for upsetting their malika. Through her confliction thoughts, she felt his beard tickle the crook of her neck as he scooted closer to tightly press against her back, moving his hips to a rhythm similar to hers.   
  


"Jack!" she hissed softly, continuing to dance, "What do ye think ye are doin'?"

She could _sense_ his gold toothed grin as he shifted to murmur infuriatingly in her ear, "It's been a while since I've danced with ye, love."

Ana huffed, and Jack caught the words "daft fool" among the multiple languages she muttered angrily. 

Through the shimmering heat they swayed slowly while their bare feet tapped and ageless melody circling the fire until suddenly Ana felt his chapped lips press hotly against her shoulder and the scar she knew ran through it. He pressed slow kisses down her shoulder to the ugly knife wound only a few months old, delivered by none other than Anamaria's former owner. 

Ana's eyes slammed closed and it took all her careful strength to detangle herself, for the first time facing the pirate, her eyes locking with his fire-dancing ones. 

Acutely aware that the entire tribe was watching them, she took his hand, bowing slightly to him and watching him do the same. She then stood motionless and Jack, a smile flitting across his features, inclined his head backwards in invitation. 

That was all it took; Ana threw caution and obligation to the starry sky and pressed her lips clumsily against hers. He caught her close, kissing her back soundly. 

Her lips suddenly met cool night air, and she forced her eyes open to see several large man restraining Jack. She felt the sting of rocks on her scraps knees and knew she was on the ground. "Stop," she demanded harshly in Himba, leaping to her feet.

Ana stepped towards him, barely registering the shocked murmurs through the crowd and suddenly felt her arms being restrained by two wise men. Through the din, Ana looked frantically for anyone who could help her or Jack; her eyes caught on Shangazi and just as Ana opened her mouth to call to her, the older woman melted back into the crowd, something unrecognizable and unnerving flashing in her eyes. 

Struggling against her captors, the men restraining Jack abruptly released him with a sneer, kicking him in the stomach then elbowing the crouching man in the back. Touching his hand to bloody mouth, he clamored to his feet, holding out a hand. 

"Stop," he panted, "let 'er go." The pirate knew very well that it was quite possible that they could not understand him. "It's me fault," he ground out, stumbling over to wrench Anamaria from the dark men's hands. 

He examined her carefully, checking her arms for bruises and her scraped knees for severity. Ana wiped away the blood forming at the corner of his mouth with her slender fingers, ears listening to the murmurs of the tribe and realizing that no other men had come forward to restrain them. There appeared to be some sort of argument being conducted, she realized, when abruptly the crowd fell silent. 

One of the wise men, whom Ana now recognized as Yobachi, stepped forward, motioning to the two of them, putting Jack's hand back into Ana's weathered dark one. He began to speak rapidly in the native language, which at this speed Anamaria could not comprehend at all.  

The pirates looked wide-eyed from him to each other and back to the wise man. Abruptly Yobachi stopped speaking and a cheer erupted from the surrounding people. The pair found themselves surrounded by grinning people and pushed into a large central hut. 

Jack gazed around the heavily decorated hut, blinking several times, his gaze resting on Anamaria who was biting her lip and looking rather uncomfortable. "Nice place," he grinned, "Very cozy…if ye know what I mean."

The African woman opened her mouth indignantly, her eyes narrowing and glaring at him. The pit of her stomach was twisted with sudden fear and something she couldn't recognize.  "I don't suppose ye don't know they use this place for, do ye?"

Jack thought hard, scrunching up his face in concentration. "Ah…no."

"Ye great fool!" Ana screeched, stomping her foot childishly, "This is a bloody wedding hut!"

Jack stared at her through wide, incredulous eyes. "What are ye sayin'?"

"I think he just bloody married us!"

-

-

-

-

-

-

Jack stared wide-eyed and frantically down at the seething woman before him, feeling the bottom fall out of his world. Marry? Jack Sparrow didn't marry. All the freedom, all the long voyages and nights in Tortuga…gone? Marry? End up with five yapping children with a civil…job. He shuddered. It just wasn't possible. Not possible at all. "What?" he demanded through clenched teeth. 

"Ye heard what I said," Anamaria snapped, plopping down on a pile of furs to tiredly rub at her aching temples. "This is all yer fault," she accused grumpily, crossing her arms in a clanging of bracelets.

"Me fault?" Jack demanded incredulously, arms fluttering to express himself mid air. "If ye hadn't gone an' promised t'marry the first bloke who—"

"Well I did!" Ana yelled shortly. "Fine, ye blame it all on me. Me fault, fine, I admit it! Happy?" Raising her eyes, she caught Jack staring at her with a quite curious expression. "What?" she growled.

"Yer me wife…" Jack stated, the beginnings of a smug smile flitting across his face, "An' yer a princess," he added for good measure.

"Yer point?"

"So now I'm Prince Capt'n Jack Sparrow. And ye, yer supposed t'obey me every word." Jack ran his finger down her shoulder, smirking, "Me every word."

Ana snorted and slapped his hand away. Quite unladylike, she knew, but frankly she couldn't care. Anamaria wasn't sure which was more amusing: Jack sparrow as a prince, or she obeying his every whim. 

"This is ridiculous," she snapped finally, though a little pain shot through her chest to admit the obvious, "I'm not yer wife."

"Ye might be," Jack pointed out, a smug smile rolling into place.

"Try and be sensible," was her only sharp retort from where her face had been buried in her dark hands. 

"I can't be sensible. Ain't possible," Jack confessed frantically, falling to his knees before her and staring up into the dark pools of her eyes imploringly, his hand raised pleadingly by her jaw.

"Me? I'm just the one who loses 'er head an' storms off," Anamaria scoffed lightly, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. 

"Yer the strong one, t'be sure."

Mutely she shook her head in protest and grumbled, "Why do I have the feelin' that this just got a lot more complicated."

"Because it did."

Jimoh's voice sounded from the doorway. Both pairs of dark eyes shot to his concerned countenance, pale beneath the thick red paint. His eyes were frantic and his serene manner had vanished. 

Jack's lips curved in an easy smile, "Well, m'lady, here be the man t'give us our answers. Have we entered into wedded bliss, then? What say you, mate?"

The missionary's gaze was focused on Anamaria, ignoring the pirate's jovial words. "Anamaria. Shangazi… has disappeared." 

-

-

-

-

_AN: I'm not sure exactly that this is the wedding traditions of the Himba…..so please don't hurt me!_

_Have our pirate's settled into 'wedded bliss'? What happened to Shangazi? And how does that darned voodoo sorceress play into all this? Stay tuned…_

_Ps- I'd like to thank all that have reviewed, esp. those who have commented on "Place in the Stars." And for all those who have questions about the events featured/hinted at in it, after this section of our pirates' lives is completed, I will attempt to explain the events leading up to the madness of that one shot. Merci bien.  _

_~Night Rose _


	10. In the Middle of the Night

_Chapter 9: In The Middle of The Night_

_Disclaimer: See Chapter One_

_AN: Yes, yes, I'm baaaaaaaack! I am extremely sorry for the delay. Props to Zo and all the others who (finally) got me off my lazy (yet extremely preoccupied) butt and asked for the continuation of this story, which yes, I do plan on finishing (eventually). So, here's another tidbit in my Jack/Ana voodoo saga to tide you over while I go figure out what perils to throw in the path of our valiant pirates. Bon Appetit!_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_From Chapter 8: _

_The missionary's gaze was focused on Anamaria, ignoring the pirate's jovial words. "Anamaria. Shangazi… has disappeared." _

-

-

-

-

Anamaria gaped at him. "Disappeared?"

Jimoh nodded, panting as he clutched his portly stomach as if he'd been running. "After you two…vanished...the wise men went looking for her and couldn't find her." He paused, holding out an objected in his hand for her to take, "But they did find this."

Ana looked down at her palm where the holy man had pressed a wilting, blood-colored flower. She bit her lip, looking into the man's kind light eyes. "This only grows in one place…" she mused, rubbing tiredly at her brow.

"If I could just say—" Jack began suddenly, breaking his uncharacteristic silence.

"No!" Anamaria snapped anxiously, closing her eyes and appearing to be in deep though. Her gaze snapped wide as she gazed fretfully on the flower that had disturbed her so. "A trick?" she finally asked in dread, desperately wishing it not be so.

Jimoh shook his head, telling her silently that he wasn't sure. He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the impatient pirate captain.

"Aye, it is a trick!" the captain roared in aggravation, jumping up in the air to land on his scuffed boots to express his frustration. The missionary and African princess stared at him, open mouthed.

Ana tried unsuccessfully to snap her jaw into place, finally narrowing her eyes dangerously and resisting the urge to stamp her foot like an impetuous child. The strain had began provoke her temper and she could feel knife-sharp points of pain in her temples.

"I don't think I asked ye, Captain Sparrow," she spat venomously, "Ye may know the way when it comes to ships an' daring escape tactics, but ye know _nothing_ of life and caring."

The pirate's mouth fell open and a veil dropped over his dark-lined eyes, making them unreadable. Anamaria ignored the pang to her heart, immediately realizing that she had gone too far.

"I know more than ye think, love," Jack drawled quietly, his black eyes locked on hers. "More than ye think." He spun on his booted heel and disappeared through the cloth door, the passive jingling following his departure.

Anamaria bit her lip, staring after him in silence. She closed her eyes briefly and sucked in a deep breath, nearly choking on the heavy fumes concentrated in the hut. A wave of homesickness crashed into her so hard that she almost swayed against its sheer for. _But where is home? _She asked herself warily.

The missionary's gentle cough snapped her back into the present situation. "We can send the warriors…" he told her patiently, as if speaking to a child.

"No," Anamaria replied, distracted. "They will anticipate that. Shangazi will likely be used as a bargaining chip. Can't risk it…" She was beginning to pace, not realizing that given the situation, the man currently situated outside the hut would be doing the exact same. "I'll go alone," she decided finally, almost speaking to herself. "We'll send scouts to surround the place, but I'll sneak in meself."

"Anamaria," Jimoh said concernedly, "That's exactly what they want."

"I know," Anamaria sighed heavily plopped down onto a thick fur mat. Her eyes went glassy as she stared out in the direction that the pirate captain had just disappeared. "I know, and I'll give them just what they want."

As she could sense Jimoh begin to gear himself up for an argument, Anamaria scrambled to her feet as quickly as she had made the decision to sit and bolted for the entrance to the hut. She stepped outside, letting the cool night air flow over her, cooling her emotions.

The sudden scratch of flint to her right did not startle her. She swallowed hard, however, and opened her mouth.

"Those things can kill ye, ye know."

"Aye," came the harsh voice from the shadows, "An' so can doing foolish things."

"I'm no fool," Anamaria retorted calmly, not flattering him by raising her voice or turning to face him.

"But tis a fool's errand," Jack Sparrow pointed out wearily inhaling the tobacco, a habit he only indulged in once in a great while.

Anamaria did now turn to him, smiling a humorless smile. Reaching out, she plucked the expensive cigar, plunder from a Spanish trading ship, if she remembered correctly, and inhaled it as well.

Jack slanted a look at her, his casual indifference disturbing the female pirate. She knew she had hurt Jack, and he had made up his mind about something, that man was stubborn as the Devil himself.

"Jack…" she began suddenly, the passion usually so well-concealed momentarily consuming her.

Jack held up his hand, stopping her plea. His dark eyes sadly surveyed her dress-clad figure and jewelry and her environment. "Doesn't suit ye, love. Ye can't force something that isn't there. Remember that."

And with that, the pirate captain plucked his cigar from her slender fingers, saluted her with it, and swaggered into the darkness, only his footsteps allowing her to believe that he wasn't a spirit after all.

The Himba princess by birth right alone felt something unfamiliar prick at her eyes and a lump form in her throat. Startled, she began to walk away from the village. Her pace increased, and without realizing it, suddenly the slender woman was running. The night air flowed over her as she raced on and on into the unknown.

Stumbling, she halted and couldn't suppress a sob. Barely able to keep herself standing, she stood swaying atop one of many rolling hills, trembling with something she hadn't let herself give into since she turned pirate. In the distance she could see the silver moon shedding its light onto a far-off glittering sea.

She missed the sea, Anamaria realized with sudden desperation that penetrated her to the bone. She shivered unexpectedly and wrapped her arms around herself, both to keep herself steady and to ward off the suddenly cold wind.

Another sob ripped through her and she fell to her knees in the coarse grass and soft dirt. She squeezed her eyes closed against the salty tears that had invaded them and as one dripped into her mouth, she tasted the sea. She could almost smell its salt and feel the smooth planks of the_Pearl_ pressing against her skin.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, feeling like icy rivers as the wind whipped through her hair and her body trembled with strange emotions.

Emotions.

They had taken her so far from home, so far from what she had known. And now they might as well be the death of her. But it was time to end that, she resolved firmly, raising her eyes heavenward. Her own petty emotions would not be the death of this tribe. They would not be the death of the flesh that she had come from. They would not shame her father's memory.

Ana lolled her head backwards and heaved a deep breath. She cleansed herself with the fresh air, blowing out all the fear and the sadness and the anger and the conflict. Anamaria would do what had to be done. She would do it no matter of the risk to herself. A pirate and a princess must be able to do both.

She straightened her shoulders. Yes, Anamaria Santagio would rescue her grandmother, kill the voodoo witch, and save the day. And go home and live happily ever after. Ana sighed. Where was home?

She'd never really had one aboard a ship, not until the _Black __Pearl_No, she mused, not until the _Black Pearl_ and Jack Sparrow. Love welled in her chest until the frustrated pirate stuffed it back down. No. She would not love Jack Sparrow.

Even if he _had_ crossed a bloody ocean for her.

But this wasn't the time to think of the mess she'd made with Jack. Jack Sparrow was a hard man to grant forgiveness. And who knew, it was quite possible that he had fled the bloody continent by now with his loyal British lovebird accomplices.

The thought gave Ana an unexpected pang, which she also stuffed far down in her chest. Emotions would be the downfall of everyone, and Anamaria was not going to be one of them.

Roughly wiping the remains of her tears with the rough cloth of her sleeve, Ana rose to her feet and steadied herself. She smiled grimly. That bloody voodoo witch better watch out, because Ana could bet her last shilling that the witch had never come up against a more fearsome foe than a pirate woman.

-

-

-

-

-

Stay tuned for the next edition of…Pirates on LAND!

And because I've made those few faithful wait so long…may I present to you…A DOUBLE WHAMMIE.

Ta dah!


	11. Of Ropes and Storms and Screams

_-_

_-_

_-_

_AN: Yes yes, I am back from a quite extended hiatus with a sudden urge to write and finish up this story. And don't worry, I really do have plans for a sequel-ish thing. Back in the Carribean where they belong, mind you. But as my life has taken on extreme busyness, I deplore the readers to be patient. Merci. _

Chapter 10: Of Ropes and Storms and Screams

-

-

-

When Anamaria returned to camp she was a different woman, Will Turner observed carefully. He had quietly stood in the darkness, watching as she pushed Captain Jack Sparrow away once more and seeing even more clearly that Jack had reached a certain level, in most people known as defeat. In Jack Sparrow, however, it was more clearly seem as indifference. Will, however, could see that it was not indifference in all, it was caring, as Jack might see it, too much for a pirate's good.

Will had watched as Anamaria stumbled from camp, barely stopping himself from going after her, telling her that he understood how she was feeling, how the responsibility of having so many lives in her hands must be smothering her, how she shouldn't worry about Jack Sparrow because he would come around. Eventually. But Anamaria had returned looking composed. And calm. Far too calm.

Will hung back in the shadows, watching as she ordered a group of several scouts to accompany her. He then watched as she permitted herself one final glance around the campsite as if to search for the now-invisible captain or simply perhaps a friendly face. Anamaria straightened her shoulders and set off.

And with that, she was gone.

Will Turner shivered slightly in the air that had taken on a distinct chill and realized abruptly that the odds were far from Anamaria's side. A strange land, soldiers she would not trust, clumsy weapons, distress from Captain Jack Sparrow, and an elderly woman as a bargaining chip. This may be the last time that Will Turner saw Anamaria Santiago, fierce pirate and African Princess, alive.

The heavy fragrance of tobacco smoke suddenly filled his nostrils. Will turned to see a figure swaying in the dark behind him, only the glow of the cigar alighting the pirate captain's face.

"Jack," Will acknowledged solemnly. If could assume correctly, Jack had just observed the same scene as he and was experiencing similar thoughts.

"We be leavin'." The captain announced suddenly.

Will choked on the smoke and was thrown into a coughing fit. When he finally found his voice, Will raised his eyes to the pirates'. "Now?"

"An ideal a time as any, I would say," Jack nodded, looking unperturbed. "We seem to have overstayed our welcome, mate."

"We can't just leave her here!"

Jack's gaze was uncharacteristically cold as he regarded his friend. "I know of no one here who would deserve to be a'going with us, mate."

Will's eyes widened.

Not good.

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

_-_

Hurrying to keep up, Elizabeth and Will followed their captain through the dark brush as he muttered incessantly. Elizabeth would not allow herself begin to decipher their meanings.

Not only had Jack Sparrow made them take off in the middle of the night with no idea where on God's green earth they were going, but he was leaving behind the one woman he loved and had traveled across the bloody ocean for! Elizabeth Swann had had enough.

"Jack!" Elizabeth snapped, stopping in her tracks. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the back of the pirates head.

Jack froze with an abrupt jingling of tokens.

Will attempted to himself into a nearby tree.

"Jack Sparrow!" Elizabeth snapped again, stalking up behind the pirate and shoving her index finger accusingly into his back. "What in bloody hell do you think you are doing!"

Jack squeezed his eyes closed and spun around, slow and deliberate. No emotion flicked over his face except annoyance. "We be going…to my ship," he told her impatiently, as if she was a silly child.

"What bloody for, Jack?" Elizabeth demanded, "We came here _for_ Anamaria. Now I don't see why we're leaving _without_ Anamaria."

Jack's gaze darkened. "Because she don't want me around, love."

Elizabeth Swann nearly cried. Men were the most obtuse creatures on God's earth. Why, the tree that Will was trying so hard to blend into had more sense than all the men in the world put together!

So she did all that she could do.

Elizabeth slapped Jack Sparrow. Hard.

Jack's face was unreadable. "Love, how many times must I explain it to ye? I came. She don't want me. An' I don't bloody want 'er!"

With that, the pirate captain whirled around and began to stalk off into the woods…and suddenly felt an enormous jerk on his leg and was catapulted five feet into the air.

He was looking at the ground. And when he looked up he saw the stars. And his…leg?

What had bleedin' happened?

"Jack!" Will's voice carried to him from several feet away. "Jack, are you alright?"

"Well I don't care if he's alright or not," Elizabeth fumed, her bright skirts flouncing to Jack's side. She craned her neck to look up at him.

_Up _at him?

Elizabeth was_ upside down? _

"Hold on Jack, I'll cut you down," Will said helpfully.

"No you will not!"

"Uh, maybe later then …"

"Jack Sparrow," Elizabeth seethed, pointing a dangerous finger at his chest. "Anamaria loves you. And if you would step off your high horse instead of barging in and ordering her about like some…some _bloody pirate_…"

"Ye say it like tis an insult, love."

"It _is_!"

"Ah."

"If you would stop being such a daft coward for one bloody moment then you'd see that she's dying for you to whisk her away from all of this! But the truth is, she can't just wait around and do nothing. She has to help. She made a promise. Do you know what a promise is, Jack?"

"Aye."

"Then do you understand nothing!"

"Aye."

Elizabeth nearly howled in frustration. Will, seeing this as an opportunity to intervene, seized his fiancé by the forearms and spoke a few quiet words to her. She seemed to calm, thankfully, Jack noted.

"What Elizabeth is trying to say, Jack, is that Ana can't be happy until she battles her demons. But she can't do it alone or there's a good chance she'll be hurt."

"She be battling her demons now?" Jack looked confused.

"Yes, Jack!"

"I thought it was a sorceress."

"Well…it is…but…" Will was now the one who appeared perplexed.

"Jack, Ana's your wife!" Elizabeth shrieked, unable to stand the male race any longer.

Jack grew silent and suddenly his face unreadable through the darkness. "That's…yet t'be determined, love"

"Do you want her to be?"

Jack fell still.

Abruptly, a scream pierced the night. A woman's scream. A scream that was painfully familiar to Jack. His heart fell like the _Pearl__'s_ lead anchor.

Jack drew his sword and in one fluid motion cut the rope which was hooked around his leg. He crashed to the soft earth with a yelp.

Elizabeth sighed.

"Right then," Jack said, looking a little dazed, "Best be off."

"To the ship?"

Jack cursed whelps everywhere and began to run.

-

-

-

-

-

Anamaria was terrified. She couldn't let the scouts see it, but she was terrified. She could see through the darkness a hut a little ways across a field, ominous smoke rising from the chimney. It was hard enough to attack a hut with its occupants sitting and waiting, but with the area surrounding it completely barren with no place to hide was near impossible. Anamaria reached into the pouch on her side and fished out the coin Jack had confronted her about in what seemed so long and pressed it to her lips. "Let this be buried and done with," Ana prayed, hoping there was someone to hear her.

The clouds crashed. The leaves began to dance in the wind. Plops of rain fell onto Ana's bare skin. This had best not be her answer.

"Dandy," Ana muttered to herself. It was just like a raid, she tried to convince herself, ye go in, ye take what ye want, and ye leave. Nothin' she hadn't done before. The scouts were looking at her curiously. Ana sighed and fingered her dagger.

"Stay here," she told the scouts in their native tongue. They looked confused and as if they might object, but she also knew they would not go against her word. So unlike pirates, they were.

She got down on her belly, put her dagger in her teeth, and began to crawl as she had when she'd escaped the plantation that first time so many years ago. Anamaria crept up to the window and paused, suddenly feeling terribly alone and vulnerable in the storm.

Pressing herself flat along the outside wall, she peered into the hut. There was a figure sitting with its back to Ana, a bag over its head making the person unrecognizable. Lightning flooded the room and the pirate lady could see no one was present.

Wondering why she was not more reassured by this fact, she carefully climbed into the window, landing with a gentle thud on the ground. Ana crept through the shadows, dagger flicked up to warn against any attack. She paused, gaze flitting around the room one final time.

"Shangazi?"

It was a whisper, barely audible. Anamaria wasn't even sure if anyone beside herself could hear it as the clouds quarreled again.

"Malika."

The reply was nearly as faint, and Ana was sorely tempted to believe she had imagined it, turn on her heel, and stride out of the tent..

Anamaria crept to figure, hoping with all her being that this would be it; the end of the daring escape and bold mission. Hoped to all the powers that may be that this whole thing would be over, the sorceress had called it square and given up and she could return home. Home…

"Shangazi?"

The figure still didn't move. Anamaria slowly lifted her had, which, she noted disdainfully, was trembling, and lifted the hood from the figure's face.

And then, doing the most un-pirate-like thing she possibly could do…Anamaria screamed.

-

-

-

-

-

_Yes my dears, I am fond of cliffhangers. What is it that has our fair Anamaria in such a tizzy? Should have the next chapter out by Saturday. Perhaps sooner if you review or help ease this ucky ucky block that seems to have taken over my brain…_

_Merci bien,_

_Night Rose_

_-_

_-_

_-_


End file.
